The Third Response
by ObsessedRomantic
Summary: Fifth in the Townwood Exit AU, sequel to 'The Innocent'. Choosing a college to apply to is easy. Dealing with the old acquanitance that shows up is the hard part. RT, mention of other pairings.
1. Kaitlyn

**THE THIRD RESPONSE **

**Disclaimer: **Despite repeated groveling, Josh still won't give them to me. Not making money, just having fun.

**Summary: **Next in the Townwood Exit universe. Choosing the college to apply to is easy. Dealing with the old acquaintance that shows up is the hard part. RT, mention of other pairings. .

**A/N: ** Hey-la, hey-la; Kaitlyn's back! (don't remember who requested that, but this one's for you)

--xxx—

''I'll get it!'' Her sister's voice was sharp and piercing; she could hear the strident edge right through the door. They must be fighting again, she sighed internally. Stepping back, Kaitlyn was glad she'd paid off the taxi already. Last thing she needed was to have some guy hanging around while her mother and sister went at each other like a couple of vindictive cats. She pasted a smile on her face; expression faltering when the door opened and she got a good look at Marissa. ''Kaitlyn? What are **you** doing here?''

''Tested out early for the semester.'' She dragged her luggage in by its trolley, staring at the older girl. Her sister's appearance brought one word to mind, she just couldn't think of it. ''Thought I'd come home for a change.''

The once-shining hair was dim and barely-combed, the eyes bloodshot and glazed, skin tanned but waxy-looking. Features that were once graceful, lines that used to be clean; looked drawn, and tight with some negative emotion. She was wearing a stylish outfit, that much was familiar, but her collar and hip bones were scarily pronounced. She looked for all the world like a stiff breeze would knock her over; shattering her on impact. Brittle. That's the word she'd been trying to bring to mind.

Marissa looked brittle.

''I would love to meet……… Kaitlyn!'' Julie switched mood mid-stride, her smile turning from fierce politeness to shining welcome. At least Mom's glad to see me, the girl thought wryly; spotting the unhappy set to her sister's face. ''Oh, honey; you should've called when your bus got in! I would've picked you up in the limo!'' The hug felt good, not as heavily perfumed as she was used to, either. She put her mother at arm's distance to get a good look (her sister's appearance having started her worrying) and smiled.

Whatever had befallen the eldest Cooper girl, it had obviously not touched their mother. Red hair was coiffed back in a stylish knot, the outfit and jewelry slightly more subdued than normal; but still worthy of runway status. Just the slightest touch of make-up on the older face told her that the woman's plans for the evening didn't include guests, or going out. Unlike her sister's, as was obvious from the other girl's next words.

''Tell me if my date shows up.'' A languid hand was flicked her way, the 'welcome home' coming off as more of an afterthought than a sincere sentiment.

''Jeez, mom.'' Kaitlyn whispered, shocked by the drastic change in her sister. When she'd gone back to school, mere weeks ago; the girl had been weepy and party-mad, but not this cold, not this heartless. ''She's really…….''

''I know, honey.'' Julie put an arm around her, motioning to the maid to have the luggage taken upstairs. Her mother sighed, squeezing her around the shoulders. ''I'm trying to get her into therapy, but…..'' The doorbell rang and she could see the impulse for foul language cross the older face.

''I can run the guy off.'' She offered, smiling confidently at the uncertain green eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, letting the bell ring again. ''You can order us some food and we'll talk about the family crises. Maybe we can even get the drama queen to eat something.'' God knew the girl needed to start putting on the calories, she thought. Skin and bones wasn't a good luck unless you were a mummy..

''Oh, baby.'' This embrace was different from the other; less a clutch of maternal hope and more a grip of female conspiracy. ''Try not to make him cry, whoever he is.''

She reveled in the faith the woman had in her, a little dismayed to discover that her mother didn't even know who her sister was dating. It was worrisome, if predictable. When she wanted to piss the woman off, the other girl could flaunt a relationship with the best of them. When a secret would be more maddening, however; the sphinx was more likely to give it up than Marissa Cooper. Pulling the door open on the third ring, she gaped at the boy standing there.

Slamming the door shut in his face, she put her hands over her mouth, shaking her head in horror. Maybe she'd imagined it? It had been a long trip, an unsettling shock at the end of it. It was possible, just barely, that she was hallucinating in her stress. She yanked the door open again to make sure.

Nope. It was still him.

It was still Ryan Atwood.

''You stupid son of a bitch!'' She hissed, dragging the very surprised boy into the house by the sleeve of his dress shirt. A dress shirt! And nice pants, too! ''You complete and utter imbecile!''

He was dressed for a date, the idiot.

''Kaitlyn?'' He didn't seem to get why she'd be mad at him, so she swung a hand towards his head. With the practiced ease of someone who spent a lot of time with Summer Roberts, he blocked the blow; backing up a step to take him out of arm's reach. ''What are you doing here?''

''Witnessing the apocalypse!'' Since she couldn't smack him as he deserved, she planted her hands on her hips. ''Are you brain-damaged? Oh my God, that explains it! You took one too many shots in the cage and became a moron!'' Kaitlyn would've felt pity for him, if she wasn't so livid about his falling right back into her sister's manipulative clutches. To the detriment of them both, from what she could……Actually, he wasn't looking half bad. What was that all about?

''What's all the…….oh. Hello, Ryan.'' Her mother smiled at the boy that had once been declared to be the bane of the Cooper family. She spun on the older woman, aghast.

''Mom! You approve of this……..this……travesty?'' She had to find a way to break them up, fast. It wasn't good, for either of the two older teens; despite how …… together Ryan appeared. ''I thought you said you'd rather see him at the bottom of the ocean than back with Marissa!'' There was a snort from the boy behind her, Julie bursting into laughter as she turned to see what had amused him.

''We're still broken up.'' Ryan's eyes were dancing with mirth, he didn't seem to be able to meet her mother's gaze. Her brow furrowed with confusion, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for the two of them to get control of themselves. It wasn't her fault that Mom's gossip had been sporadic lately. So she'd jumped to a wrong conclusion. What else was she supposed to think when he showed up on their doorstep? What else could be……….?

Oh,_** fuck**_.

She hoped he wasn't doing her mother.

That would be **all** they needed, for him to complete the Luke Ward trifecta: beating up guys in a jealous fit, cheating on Marissa, then sleeping with Julie.

She'd move to Timbuktu; swear to God.

''Honey, Ryan's an intern at the Newport Group.'' The woman sighed, putting an arm around her with a small chuckle of affection. The support kept her from fainting with relief. ''He should have been off about an hour ago, though.'' That was said with a frown, and Kaitlyn raised her eyebrows at their visitor; waiting for an explanation.

Which is totally what she should've done in the** first** place, but ……..

''Matt had some proposals he wants you to look over.'' The boy held out a data disk for the older Cooper to take. ''I was on my way to the Roberts' when he called.'' Uh-oh. Roberts was Summer's last name. He couldn't _possibly_…….

**No**. That would just be too _**weird**_, even for Newport.

''I'm gonna have to talk to him about appropriate times to ask you to run errands.'' Julie sounded more irritated with this 'Matt' guy than worried about Ryan's date. Which only meant that she was right, and it wasn't Summer. Who else lived there, though; besides Doctor Roberts? Hadn't the step-monster (not that she thought Ryan was interested in pharmacy junkies, but still) moved out? ''This could've waited until Monday.''

''No big deal. It was on my way.'' Ryan didn't _quite_ look at his watch, but the set of his muscles made it obvious he wanted to. Her mother smiled, running her eyes over his outfit teasingly. The boy fidgeted, glancing towards her and away. She joined the older Cooper in appraising him, making him squirm even more.

She was just starting to enjoy tormenting him when her mother dismissed him.

''Say 'hi' to Taylor for me.'' Her voice was taunting; she snickered as the older teen nodded his head politely at them both before bolting. Whoever this 'Taylor' was (did the name sound familiar?), he certainly seemed eager to get to her.

''Okay, Mom.'' She put her arm around the woman's waist, resting her head on the perfumed shoulder as the door shut after him. ''No more bits and pieces. I have to know_ everything_,** stat**.''

''I thought you already knew everything, sweetie.''

''Mom!''


	2. Neil

**A/N: **This one's for Lori, b/c it was kind of her idea.

--xxx--

''He's late.''

Neil Roberts glanced up at her words, watching the girl bite her lip and fidget, picking at her fingers. During a **normal** dinner, she'd already be chattering away; entertaining him (in chorus with his daughter) with the events of the day or the plans the kids had for the evening.. **Now**, she just looked terrified of his opinion; obviously thinking that he'd judge her boyfriend harshly because of the delay. He remembered what Summer had said, about the insecurity underlying the other girl's confident attitude. It was easy to forget, sometimes; that the bright, charming, energetic young lady didn't have a lot of experience with positive reinforcement. Or positive events.

''Well, he **did** call.'' Patting her hand, he tried to reassure her that he wasn't going to count the tardiness against the boy. Or maybe that wasn't the reason, he thought, seeing the naked fear in her eyes. He gently squeezed the knuckles under his palm, hoping to convey a measure of his own calm through the contact. ''I'm sure he's fine.''

''Oh, of course he is.'' It was a bright smile, it was even polite.

It just wasn't sincere.

''So, tell me about this Ryan.'' He'd already heard a great deal about the kid. From his little girl, from her boyfriend, from the unreliable rumor mill and the steadier (if somewhat biased) source of the boy's guardians. The mature behavior at the hearing had impressed him, as had what he'd learned during the 'campaign' to get the petition signed. That was all hearsay, though. As much as he trusted Summer's intelligence, as much as he respected Sandy Cohen's people-sense; he wanted to get a better look at the young man who was dating the girl he was coming to see as another daughter.

Besides, it would keep Taylor from 'freaking out'.

She rambled on for a good fifteen minutes about the boy's positive traits (his intelligence, his compassionate nature, his sly sense of humor, his loyalty, his strength of will) before the door bell rang. He was honestly glad it did, because she was starting to venture into the territory of physical attributes; and he'd rather remain ignorant of such things. His other girl didn't go into details about Seth's 'soul-piercing eyes', or 'mouth-watering physique', for instance.

So it was with a great sense of relief that Neil Roberts rose from his dining room table to shake the hand of Ryan Atwood.

''Doctor Roberts.'' He sounded a little out of breath, Neil smiled internally as he realized the kid must've run from car to door. That was a lot of stairs. ''Sorry I'm late.'' The apology was directed to him, but the blue eyes aimed it to the young lady still seated at the table. ''Taylor.'' There was a wealth of meaning in the way the name was pronounced, and he started to get the feeling that Summer had been right, when she'd tried to warn him about the kid's nonverbal tendencies.

''That's all right.'' He indicated the waiting chair, place already set. ''Food's not even cold.'' Damn. Neil hadn't meant that to sound critical, but the slight flinch on the young man's part spoke volumes about how it'd been received. How was he supposed to take the kid's measure when every remark would be seen as a dig?

Maybe he should reconsider the amusement value of putting young Mister Cohen through his paces. It appeared he was getting something of a 'rep'.

''You called, that's the important thing.'' Taylor was opening her napkin onto her lap, her complete lack of concern over the matter obvious. He watched with something akin to awe as her boyfriend relaxed slightly, the guilt over his tardiness draining away. And that was just from her body language. If the two had a minute or two to themselves, he'd wager that neither would have any remnants of nervousness left. ''I suppose it's one of the risks of being an intern; being at someone's beck and call like that.''

''I think Matt's just scared of Julie.'' There was the ducked-head smile his daughter had told him about. As if he didn't have a right to smile, and therefore had to hide the expression. Thinking of **why** the younger man reacted like that was nothing he wanted to think about, so he decided to stick with the (spoken) subject at hand.

''I remember those days: being an intern.'' Neil lifted the lid off the nearest serving bowl, signaling to the two (in his opinion, overly) polite teens that the meal could begin. ''It doesn't seem like it now, but one day it'll all be worth it.'' If he'd known about the success that would come from those years of following the whims of (what seemed to be) power-hungry morons…………. Well, he would've complained a lot less.

''It's worth it now.'' Ryan blinked, seeming to reconsider a statement that could be seen as argumentative. ''I mean …….I don't mean……..'' The spoon he was holding tapped sharply against the serving bowl as the boy's hand clenched white with tension.

''Ryan's interested in architecture.'' Her voice was as worried as her boyfriend looked, the older man switched the focus of his gaze to the auburn beauty to give the youngster time to recover his composure. ''He's thinking of becoming an architect.''

''Your parents must be proud.'' He took the bowl from the nervous boy, nodding his respect for a young man who had it together enough to have his future planned out that far in advance. Most kids his age (in Newport) didn't even have solid **intentions** for the post-graduation summer. ''Both sons going to college, one with a career already in mind.''

''They are.'' There was a challenge in the younger man's voice; supported by his next statement. ''Of Seth, especially. There's talk about making Atomic County into a television show, since the movie fell through.'' And he'd thought his **daughter** was defensive of the boy she was dating. It was nothing compared to the undercurrent of hostility in Ryan's tone, his face. Criticism of his foster brother would apparently not be tolerated.

That was all right. There were other subjects he wanted to sound the kid out on, anyway.

Other opportunities to be amused by the teen's nervous behavior.

''So.'' The clatter of cutlery was satisfying, he kept his gaze on his own plate so the boy could pretend not to have jumped. ''I hear you're in drama club?'' The red was a new thing. Seth never blushed; being too busy stammering his way through an apology or explanation or anecdote. The blonde boy swallowed thickly, neck and cheeks turning a dark shade of pink.

''Ryan's head of our prop department; he's even helped us out with decorating for a few of the dances.'' Desperate blue eyes pleaded across the table, Taylor closed her mouth and took another bite of dinner rather than continue on.

''That's amazing.'' Neil conveyed great astonishment, looking from one teen to the other; piercing the boy with a pointed look. ''Your lips don't move at all.'' The girl moaned softly, but he kept his eyes on Ryan. If he'd wanted to talk to the young lady, he wouldn't have bothered to invite her young man over for this meal.

''All right.'' Blush fading, the kid affected a casual attitude; the only signs of his anxiety the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his gripped his silverware. ''Cards on the table. What do you want to know?'' Damn. If they were going to be serious, he couldn't torment the youngster anymore.

He had to respect the move, and the maturity behind it.

Right, then.

''I want you to convince me you're serious about this girl.'' He held up a hand when Taylor started to speak, to defend their relationship. ''I know you're not just latching on to the first boy to show an interest, Taylor. You're too smart for that.'' He tapped his finger on the table in front of the frozen young man, making the eyes widen, but garnering no other reaction. ''But I want to know that you're not going to be hurt by some kid going after his next conquest.'' That made the eyes narrow, flicking briefly towards the girl with nervous irritation. ''Tell me what's different about this one; why you'll stick with her and not the others.'' Now the hostility was more overt, he was suddenly glad the meal hadn't necessitated knives.

''That's not fair.'' Taylor protested, sounding like she was going to cry. He looked away from the burning resentment aimed his way and saw that the girl was more upset by his cornering Ryan than what his comments implied about her. ''He's not that good with words, he's not wired that way. You can't put the pressure of our entire relationship on how eloquent an argument he can make. It's not…..''

''Her eyes.'' Neil turned his head back around at the interruption, seeing calm in the once-turbulent gaze. The kid reached out without looking, lacing their fingers together when his girlfriend laid her palm in his. He seemed to draw confidence from the contact, meeting the older man's stare with a firm serenity. ''Not how pretty they are or anything; although they **are**.'' It was the young lady's turn to blush, though she didn't removed her hand from his grip. ''It's what I **see** there, who I **am** there. She sees me as I **could** be; and she makes me see it, too.'' This time, it was Ryan who broke the eye contact; gazing raptly into the hazel eyes of the girl holding his hand. ''I see her the same way.'' Obviously, the rest of the world no longer existed for the teens as they continued to stare into each other over the expanse of his dining room table.

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like a Peeping Tom, like he was intruding on something privileged and sacred. The two snapped out of their spell; Ryan uncomfortably fiddling with his meal and Taylor giving him a mega-watt grin.

''Of course…..'' she said teasingly ''……when he **does** speak……''


	3. Sandy

**A/N: ** Okay, cute little Cohens+1 scene. Enjoy.

--xxx—

''You know he's gonna fight us on this.'' For once, Sandy Cohen wasn't looking forward to a fight. Going up against the rich and powerful for the sake of what was right, defending kids who were caught up by circumstance or lack of options; those were the battles he relished. This…….this was just painful. ''And if we push too hard, he'll just shut down.''

Trying to convince their son to accept their paying for college, to get him to even **apply** for college;** that** was the conflict facing him.

He'd had worse odds, but never when the stakes were so personally high.

''We have to try, Sandy.'' Kirsten fiddled with her coffee cup, showing massive control in not looking over her shoulder to check the pool house. He nodded, acknowledging her point; trying to gather his arguments.

On coming back from the dinner with Neil, Ryan had been in an unbelievably upbeat mood. Seth's constant pleading to his brother to 'share the secret' of his success was only amusing in counterpoint to the other boy's affectionately teasing offer of 'pointers' that were really just thinly veiled jokes. With the two of them so relaxed and excited (between the mock-arguments) about school and their girlfriends, it had been a weekend of laughter and high spirits. Sandy had thought, during last night's family meal; that bringing up college would only add more fuel to the festivities. It had only served, however, to show that his ward still had feelings of insecurity and a staggering lack of confidence in his own potential.

The words 'work-study' and 'community college' had featured large in his protests about them 'wasting money' on his education.

''Good morning, mater familia, pater familius.'' Sandy shook his head at the butchery of Latin his natural-born son greeted them with. The boy set his book bag on the edge of the counter with a smile, making a show of peering towards the still-silent pool house. ''So, I was thinking all last night; and I think I've got our strategy.'' He traded a long-suffering look with his wife before speaking.

''Son, I don't think a comic book intervention is the answer here.'' That had been the younger Cohen's plan, when his brother was isolating himself with random sex and violence at the beginning of summer.

''Not _actually_ my plan, but a good idea to keep as back-up.'' He was just about to ask, when the brown eyes snapped away from the back yard and met his grey gaze squarely. ''Here he comes.'' Seth put a hand on his mother's shoulder, patting as if she was upset. He started to get an idea of what this 'strategy' was about and ducked his head to hide a proud smile at they boy's brilliant (somewhat unexpected) perceptiveness. ''It's okay, Mom; I'm sure he didn't mean it that way.'' This was said just as the other boy walked in, and he stopped short in confusion; frozen in the act of lifting his satchel over his shoulder. ''How could you, man?''

''What?'' Ryan looked panicked, Sandy wondered if this was such a good idea, after all; seeing the true concern in the kid's face. ''What did I do? Kirsten?'' Now he was **really** having doubts, hearing the anxiety in the young voice.

''You only insulted my parents; nothing much.'' The brow furrowed, eyes flicking from him to his wife as their ward obviously tried to figure out what he'd done. He was about to put a stop to this (Lord knew, the youngster had **enough** doubts about his place among them); but the other son was continuing. ''You really think they'll ditch you the minute you turn eighteen? Dude, what kind of scum do you think our folks are?'' There was a flinch, and the other's mouth opened (likely to apologize, but the brunette boy wasn't finished. ''College is when they get to the good stuff: fussing over our roommates, giving us useless advice about co-eds and beer, making us call every weekend out of neurotic fear we'll outgrow them………..''

''That last part's actually **you**, honey.'' Kirsten whispered, keeping her gaze averted; acting the part of hurt and offended mother. He could see the glint of worry in her pale green eyes, matching his own. This had better work, or they would've damaged Ryan's faith in his place here for_ nothing_.

''It's not……..You've already done so much……..'' Figured it wouldn't be pride holding him back, Sandy thought. Should've known it was concern for **them**, for their financial status, now that neither one was working a high-paying job.

''I didn't just go to work at the Newport Group to try and please my father; anymore than Sandy took that job at the firm just for the prestige.'' His wife finally lifted her head, holding the blonde boy in place with her measured words and gentle stare. ''We did those things so that we could afford to give our **children** a future, so we could provide for the **both** of you.'' Ryan looked down, fidgeting with the strap to his bag; apparently shamed as he thought things through from their side of it. He was moved to try and put a more positive spin on things.

Last thing his ward needed was guilt, especially the undeserved guilt he seemed to excel in.

''I was gonna save this for graduation……..'' It would go a long way to cementing the kid's willingness to apply for colleges that didn't offer courses in engine repair, though. He confirmed permission for the revelation with a quick glance at the woman he loved, smiled at the other blonde in the room as he continued. ''We don't really need the money that the foster system has been giving us for taking care of you; so we deposited it into a high-interest savings account. That's where the money we gave you for Theresa came from.'' He saw both sons start at that, recalling how difficult it had been for the one to **take** the funds. It was only after they'd pointed out that he had the baby to think of that they'd managed to get him to accept it. He really should've remembered that, when they started talking about colleges. ''There should be enough in there by the time you turn eighteen for you to attend Harvard or Yale or wherever.'' With the addition of (the entirely unexpected) money from Caleb's will, anyway.

Not that he was going to bring** that** up. Finding out that Ryan had been included in the trust funds set up for Cal's 'children' (along with Marissa, Lindsay, Seth, and Kaitlyn) had been a shock; one he was still trying to deal with. No way was he going to lay that load on the boy, not when he got the feeling the kid still (inaccurately) blamed himself for the man's heart attack.

He pretty much figured it was the old bastard's attempt to buy his way into heaven, anyway.

''I don't know what to say.'' It was the same reaction as when they first made him part of the family, just less intense. Maybe he was_ finally_ getting used to the fact that they weren't going to let him down, Sandy thought to himself. He was just opening his mouth to start reassuring the boy when a horn sounded from out front.

''That's Summer. The girls are giving us a ride this morning.'' Seth pointed a finger at his brother, grinning mischeviously. ''You don't need to speak, my brother; you need to **pray**.'' Off the tilted head, the silent question: ''Pray that I don't tell Taylor about your little crises of faith, here.'' The other boy paled and he couldn't help but chuckle.

''I dunno, son; that sounds like a good idea.'' Sandy wasn't more than half-teasing as he nudged the younger Cohen, giving the blonde boy a only slightly serious look. ''**She** might be able to finally convince him to have a little more confidence in himself as well as us.'' The second horn-blast seemed to punctuate his statement, making his wife smile at the coincidence.

''Okay, I **get** it. No more freaking out over college.'' That had the sound of one of Ryan's 'promises', which meant the problem was fixed. Now they just had to build up his self-image (or, better yet, let his girlfriend do it) so that he wouldn't unconsciously sabotage his chances of getting admitted. Third sound of the horn and the boy twitched towards the door.

''Go. Before they come looking for you two.'' He put a hand on his taller son's arm, holding him in place as the other escaped. He didn't have much time, but he wanted Seth to know how proud he was of him and his effectively perceptive strategy. ''Son….''

''I know, I'm wonderful.'' Seth smiled, grabbing his own bag to follow his brother out the door. ''You can show your appreciation with the purchase of my very own quality motor vehicle…….''

''Go.'' Kirsten demanded in time with the fourth, longer, blast of the horn. The boy bolted, making hand gestures that were apparently supposed to imply him operating a steering wheel. Sandy shook his head at the antics, agreeing with the woman's next words. ''I hope he doesn't actually drive like that.''

''Well, there** is** a reason we haven't gotten him a car before.''

''I thought we were trying not to spoil him.''

''Honey, I think it's time we admitted that we failed on that one.''


	4. Summer

**A/N: ** More blatant canon theft, this chapter. With, of course, the usual twist.

--xxx--

Having Taylor Townsend as her best friend/sort of sister was turning out to be fantastic.

Seth had gone all Cohen-y on her this morning, when he found out about her SAT scores. He'd been all weird and whiny at lunch, like he didn't **want** her to be smart, _especially_ if she was smarter than him. Summer had been complaining, during afternoon break; how lame it was to have a boyfriend who was only interested in her body, how she wished he could stop being neurotic _**for one second**_ and support her.

Even though she had started by laughing, her house-mate had made a lot of sense. It was true, their boys were really bad about seeing their own good points. And it was so……_**.Cohen**_ of Seth to believe that the only thing he had going for him was his brains. Hello? Creativity? He was artist and chief writer for an entire graphic novel; one in which television producers had shown an interest. You'd think that would give him some geek-type confidence; but no. No, he had to be all insecure about her 'outgrowing' him and finding someone who was 'up to her level'.

Like she'd ever want someone who wasn't all sweet and romantic and needy (it was nice to be needed) and so gone on her that he couldn't even **see** any other girl. She knew he looked, all guys did; but he always looked **right** back at_** her**_. Not like he was guilty, either; but more like he was returning his gaze to the only **real** female on Earth.

And she was supposed to give that up for some boring brain-trust who would fold at the first sign of sarcasm and never fight back?

For the first time, she was glad she'd dated Zach. It gave her the perfect example to ease his (stupid, unfounded, neurotic) fears. The smile she got when she pointed out that she'd **already** chosen him over a 'better' model was almost worth it.

The subsequent kiss most definitely **was**, despite Atwood's relieved smirk (and Taylor's clapping) when they were finished.

Now if only she could do something about his taste in movies.

''…..just didn't get it.''

''Et tu, Ryan?"'

''Why was the hero picking on that one-armed boxer? Poor guy.'' Summer hadn't sat through a film that bad since……. Well, since the last time she'd been dragged to one of these weird cartoons. At least **that** one, being Taylor's pick; had had a little romance to it. At least, she thought that was romance. This stuff was confusing, sometimes it was hard to tell what was going on.

''It was about revenge; it's a classic theme of the genre.'' Taylor didn't sound as upset as her fellow anime aficionado. She sounded, in fact, more like she was apologetic for subjecting the other two teens to the obviously under-appreciated entertainment.

''Maybe Roberts or I should pick, next time.'' Atwood sounded apologetic too, though he was probably hoping not to give the impression that he was criticizing his girlfriend.

''_**Great**_. So we'll have a choice between a Pacino film or _Bring It On._'' Cohen shook his head sorrowfully, expressing his apparent (sarcastic) regret at their lack of what he considered 'culture'.

''Al Pacino's a great actor.'' His brother protested.

''And _Bring It On's_ a fabulous movie.'' She traded a glance with Taylor, who smiled back at her with mischevious complicity. From the look the blonde boy was giving her friend, his support for that particular film was most likely based in imagining his girlfriend in a cheerleader outfit. Summer nodded at her friend, getting a nod in return.

Looks like his isn't the only mind Tay can read, she thought; treasuring the giggle (that girl needs to loosen up and laugh more, in her opinion) that preceded the other girl joining in as she sang:

''I'm sexy, I'm cute; I'm popular to boot. I'm bitching, nice hair; the boys all like to stare'' She frowned when the other stopped singing along, turning to look over her shoulder to see what the auburn beauty was staring at with such pinch-faced anxiety.

There was a stoned-looking girl with frizzy red hair who was staring their way. It wasn't the three goons that trailed after her as she headed over that made Summer's stomach turn and blood run cold.

It was that the skank was wearing Atwood's _**jacket**_.

His old Seth-termed 'Chino-style' leather jacket, the one he hadn't been able to find when they went shopping for school, over a month ago. Turning back towards her friends, she saw the flick of recognition in the blonde's eyes, the shame in his clenched jaw that no one who didn't know him well would be able to spot. Well, crap. Seth squeezed her fingers, for likely the same reason that Taylor was resting her hand on her guy's forearm.

''Hey, Ry.'' God, she hoped he'd used serious protection. She didn't want the other girl to come down with some nasty disease (when the two finally got together) because her boyfriend spent a few weeks last summer being retarded. ''I didn't know you were from money.''

''What do you want, Heather.'' There was tone in his voice as he intercepted the slut's attempt (flinging aside her fingers as if they were diseased) to touch him; the same one he used when he talked to Marissa, these days. A cold, hard tone that left no doubt he could care less about the person he was addressing.

It scared her. Cohen too, from the sudden damp chill to his palm over her knuckles.

''Oh, it's not what **I** want.'' That was a piercing giggle, she was hard-pressed not to flinch. From the way Atwood tensed, he recognized the sound and was just as repulsed by it. Bad as she felt for one of his mistakes coming back to haunt him so publically, she felt even worse for her best friend. To know your guy had been a man-slut was one thing. To be confronted with blatant evidence thereof……. ''Although……..if you **want** to party……..'' Tay's face went blank and still. It was always a bad sign, when the other girl slapped on her Newpsie mask.

''I'm not doing that anymore.'' Granite was more flexible than his voice, his eyes were flat and so very, very cold. She couldn't suppress a shudder as his eerie gaze traveled over her and Seth to stop on their (vastly unwanted) guests. ''What does Volchok want?''

''A rematch.'' Heather-skank crossed her arms over her chest, pouting a little (it didn't look any better on her than her previous expressions) at her advances being rebuffed. ''A private one.''

''No.'' He didn't really think it'd be that easy, did he? She tensed as one of the goons leaned in, hand on the seat behind her boyfriend's back. Cohen stiffened, but didn't take his eyes off his brother. Admirable as that brotherly faith was, she had more confidence in the waitress's nervous fingering of the phone than Atwood's ability to take three guys; all of which were at least half a foot taller than he was.

''Isn't that just like a candy-ass rich kid?'' Goon number one (the one leaning in) commented.

''Yeah. Doesn't want to play if he can't cheat.'' Goon number two (with a flaming heart tattoo on his ugly arm) was mirroring his buddy's poise; glaring down at Ryan's blank and stubborn face.

''Face it, Ry.'' Heather leaned in, her breath making Cohen cough and her own eyes water. She admired the control across the table, because the other two showed no reaction to the miasma of alcohol and weed that wafted over their group. ''You and Volchok? Have unfinished business.'' Bloodshot eyes went from one seated teen to another, ending back on the blonde boy; who met the look with obvious (shamed and guilty) disdain. ''See you around.''

The group walked out, Goon number three (wearing a tattered stocking cap) glaring as he held the door for his pals. Breathing a sigh of relief, Summer turned back to find Ryan standing, yanking money out of his wallet to toss hurriedly on the table. Oh, he wasn't **that** stupid, was he? He wasn't really going to go chasing off (abandoning his girlfriend to worry herself into knots) after the loser-patrol for some macho confrontation with this Volchok thug?

''Ryan…….'' Taylor sounded like she wanted to lock him up for his own safety, protests heavy in her hazel eyes.

''He found me, he can find other people.'' Her brow furrowed, but her boyfriend jumped out of his seat like he'd been jolted with a cattle prod.

''Kaitlyn.''


	5. Julie

**A/N: **Okay, here's the fifth chapter, my greedy ones. Apologies to those who were expecting a fight.

On a side note, anyone know if I'm mis-spelling the surf Nazi's name?

--xxx—

''Oh, no, no, sweetie; no pastels.'' Julie plucked the tangerine skirt from her youngest's hands, tossing it into the 'discard' pile. ''We Cooper girls are very primary.''

''Pri**mal**, anyway.'' She shared a chuckle with her daughter, sorting through the clothes on one side of the girl's closet as Kaitlyn went through the other.

Work had caused her to put off the planned re-connection with her girls, but what had happened last weekend was never going to happen again. She'd burned the midnight oil to clear her correspondence courses for the next week, shuffling things at the office so she could have two whole days free to spend with the two younger women. The plan had been for them to re-evaluate their wardrobes the first night (a girl's night in), and to hit the stores (donating their discards to charity) to replenish the next evening.

Marissa had taken a pass, asking for the money instead of being 'forced' to spend time with 'people who hated her'. More and more, she was thinking that her oldest needed serious, professional help. She just didn't want to give up on the girl; not yet. She wanted to prove to her daughters, to herself; that she cared enough about them to take a personal interest, not to palm them off on strangers. That had been her mistake the first time around, two years ago, she believed. Trying to pass the 'problem child' off for someone else to deal with. Not this time. This time, she would take care of her family and everything would be fine.

It would be nice, though, if the older teen would cooperate a little. It was getting old, fast; holding out her hand to help, only to have the girl smack it aside.

''Hey.'' Kaitlyn nudged her, holding up a cute top and striking a pose. ''Does pink count as pastel?'' She knew what her daughter was doing, and smiled out of gratitude as well as amusement.

''Not when it's that adorable.'' Julie personally thought her youngest needed a whole new look, to reflect the benefits of puberty. She wasn't about to suggest it, though.

One out of control, boy-crazy wild child in the family was enough.

They were making their way downstairs, arms full of outdated couture; when someone started banging on the door. She froze, wondering why it had never occurred to her to hire a personal security service, so there'd be a man on the premises. Probably because her daughter had already seduced one employee (poor DJ, she hoped he was doing well, wherever he'd ended up) and she wouldn't put it past the girl to do it again. Heart in her throat, she was about to order her baby upstairs to summon the police, when the shouting became recognizable in both words and the identity of the shouter.

''Julie! Kaitlyn!'' The door shook, Ryan was most likely slamming himself into it. What could be so urgent he didn't just call?

Oh.

She'd taken the phones off the hook and switched her cell to voice mail so she could spend the evening in un-interrupted bonding. From the desperation in his voice, though (as well as the way he was threatening the integrity of her door); this was no mere office errand. The possibilities of what it could be caused her to toss the fabric over the rail and run down the remaining steps to yank open the door.

''Ryan? What is it?'' His face was tight with concern, as was the girl's behind him. ''Taylor? What………?'' Oh, God; it was bad. It had to be, for him to bring his girlfriend along for emotional support. She gripped the door's edge more firmly, feeling weak and nauseous.

''Is Kaitlyn here?'' He was trying to peer past her, so she stepped back to let him inside. Why would he be looking for ……..

''Is Marissa all right? What hospital is she at? Kaitlyn……'' The only theory that fit the facts hit her right in the gut, watering her eyes with terror and grief. She closed her eyes, horrified at the thought of her daughter, however estranged, being in an accident. She felt the world tilt, as if she would faint any second.

''I told you.'' She heard the auburn beauty snap, coming over to put an arm around her; crooning comfort. ''It's okay, Julie. As far as we know, Marissa's okay. It's all right, everything's all right…….'' The most amazing thing was that there wasn't a speck of resentment or ire when the girl reassured her about her once-rival. She was able to release her death-hold on the door, letting the younger woman escort her over to the loveseat parked against the stairs. ''It's all right, we weren't followed.''

''Followed?'' Kaitlyn had descended more slowly, though she showed the same lack of concern for her rejected garments, fluttering to the floor of the foyer. The girl crossed her arms over her chest, facing off with the only slightly relieved-looking boy. ''Why would anyone be following you?''

''Volchok's in town.'' Her youngest gasped, joining her on the loveseat and letting her mother put her arms around her with no trace of the usual preteen arrogance. They both needed the security, Julie felt. Her daughter for the sheer terror still trembling through her and herself for the comfort of knowing that one of her babies was safe.

''Volchok.'' She spat the name, glaring up at Ryan; who nodded and ducked his head to stare at his feet. ''He's here looking for Kaitlyn?'' The shrug made her scowl, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the blonde. ''He's looking for **you**.''

''He wants a rematch.'' His apology was in his voice, he hunched his shoulders as if to prepare for her attack. From the uneasy expression on Taylor's face, she had the same expectations.

She was tempted, she was sorely tempted. It would be nice, to have someone to blame; someone she could yell at and punish.

But the new Julie Cooper-Nichol knew better than that. She knew that it wasn't really his fault; it was this Volchok boy's. She was far too grateful to the young man, anyway; for the rescue of the girl under her arm, to be carping at him now.

''Have you called the police?'' Julie knew he hadn't. Aside from the issues of his background, he was a teenage boy. This wasn't the kind of thing boys called the authorities about, being too cock-sure they could 'handle it'. When it was her child in danger, though; she wanted the cops involved. Hell, she wanted the FBI, the state police; the marines, if she could get them.

''They need something to go on.'' He shrugged, still uncomfortable; but not about the boy hunting him. Something else about tonight was bothering him, she could see it now that his concern for Kaitlyn wasn't screaming from every pore. His cell went off, giving her the perfect opportunity as he stepped away to answer it.

''You have to convince him to go to the police, Taylor.'' She turned to the girl sitting on the edge of the loveseat. The hand on her shoulder stilled it's soothing circles, hazel eyes startled and a little wary. She thought she and the girl had been getting along, what……? ''Oh, sorry. Kaitlyn? This is Taylor. Taylor, Kaitlyn.''

''Pleased to meet you.'' She had to give the Townsend girl respect (was it still called 'props'?) for the way she could greet people with that honest cheer in her voice. All of Newport practiced the fine art of civility; but only Taylor could sound honestly happy to meet the little sister of her boyfriend's ex.

''Hey.'' Kaitlyn ran an evaluating gaze over the other girl's outfit (jeans and a sailor-type blouse), nodding to herself in that way Julie knew so well. Looked like the older teen was getting points in one daughter's book, anyway. ''You're a lot prettier than the last girl I saw him with.''

''Oh, you don't have to say that.'' Taylor stood, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her blouse with obviously nervous hands. Any other night, she'd address the girl's apparent self-image issues with a well-placed blunt compliment or two. Tonight, though……

Tonight, she wanted the full story of what had brought the couple so frantically to her door.

''That's not nice, Kaitlyn.'' She mock-scolded her daughter, taking the opportunity to steer the conversation where she wanted it to go. ''Anyone looks good compared to crack-whores like Heather.'' That name got the older girl's attention, even Ryan shot a worried glance over from where he was still on his cell phone. From the frustrated expression, he must be talking to Seth. ''Didn't he tell you about her?'' She affected remorse, gently squeezing her little girl's shoulders to ensure cooperation in the coming discussion. ''I'm sorry, this must be…..''

''She was the one who told us Volchok was in town, looking for Ryan. She came into the diner, where we were having an after-movie snack.'' Julie had expected nervous fidgeting, defensive and hurt protests about the boy not sharing his darker history. This, though. This was calm acceptance, this was peace and clear-eyed acknowledgement of the situation. Even with the pause, her voice was steadier than Marissa's had ever been, during the rare quiet moments when **she'd** dated Ryan. ''She was wearing his old jacket.''

''Ew.'' Kaitlyn commented, glaring as the boy rejoined them, folding his phone into his pocket. ''You gave that slut your jacket?''

''Not intentionally.'' Again there was a shrug, a tendency to avoid their gaze. He was ashamed, she saw. It was guilt that kept him from taking his girlfriend's hand, that kept him unable to meet their eyes. ''Seth says Kirsten and Sandy are okay. He and Summer are there, giving them the whole story.'' There was a minut flinch at his own words, and she felt a strong sympathy for the boy. Having the cream of society find out about her past 'errors in judgment' was humiliating. Having people he respected, that he cared about; find out about his less than stellar three week start to summer vacation was probably worse. ''I'm sorry.'' She opened her mouth to reassure him that she didn't blame him for this crises, when she saw that he wasn't addressing her at all. ''Taylor, I'm sorry.''

''You should be.'' Julie wanted to advise the girl to lose the bitchitude. While it kept the riff-raff at a distance, it didn't play so well with **real** friends. ''I'm not an idiot, you know.''

''Jeez, Ryan.'' Kaitlyn slouched down, giving the boy a measuring stare. From her daughter's expression, he was coming up short on that scorecard. ''You're supposed to compliment her, not insult her.''

''I didn't …… I mean, I do……..'' Flustered was almost as adorable as the embarrassment he'd evidenced at his hearing. Sharing a smirk with her youngest, the two Coopers settled in for some drama. This beat the Russell Crowe DVD waiting in the den, no contest.

''I knew you had other girls.'' Taylor's quiet voice cut through all their amusement, and most of the confusion on the her guy's face. ''I knew** that** before we even started. I figured there were girls during your little trip to the dark side.'' She bit her lip to keep from snickering at the reference, admiring the reasoned maturity (pop-cultural references aside) behind the girl's words.

''They're my past.'' That he considered the auburn beauty to be his future was blatant; it was all over his face. Julie narrowed her gaze, noting how ……..open he was, how easy to read. Downside of the night's adrenaline rush, or just the effect this girl had on him? ''Forgive me?'' Talk about having your strangle-hold on guilt, she thought, rolling her eyes and catching her daughter doing the same thing.

''Ryan.'' The girl sighed the name, stepping closer so that she was mere inches away from him. Close enough to kiss, though she didn't. ''I love you.'' He flinched, he actually, markedly _**flinched**_ from the words and the older woman felt a surge of rage towards Marissa for twisting this boy into such a mess he couldn't accept the expression of true affection for what it was. ''I'm not saying that to hear it back, or to guilt-trip you or get you in the sack or any of the other ways you've heard it used.''

''I don't……….I can't……….'' Ryan was biting his lip, looking everywhere but at any female in the room. Julie wanted to interrupt, to ease his discomfort out of compassion if nothing else. Only the thought that the two might never reach this moment again stopped her from speaking.

''I know I'm not the world's most patient person.'' Taylor brushed bangs away from her forehead, a gesture that caught and held the boy's attention; enabling the hazel eyes to capture his. ''To hear that, from you, when you're ready…..'' No one in the room seemed to breathe as the girl touched a small hand to her left breast, reaching the short distance to lay her palm on the left side of **his **chest. ''For that, I can wait.'' That had the feel of an oath, Julie thought. Especially with the hand laid over his (most likely wildly beating) heart.

''Taylor.'' He made her name into an entire sentence with his voice, full of promise and tender regard. She was hard-pressed not to sigh aloud when he put his own palm over the girl's hand, looking like he was taking a vow. The two leaned towards each other, like they'd forgotten she and her daughter were even there.

Much as she loved the romance, loved knowing true love was possible; she had no desire to watch two teenagers make out in her foyer.

And neither, it appeared, did her little girl.

''Hey!'' Kaitlyn kicked out, her sneaker tapping against the boy's boot. ''Impressionable teenager in the room. Knock it off.''

''She's right.'' Julie stood, dusting her hands together. ''You two need to take off, anyway.'' When the boy paused, she sighed; patting him on one rock-hard shoulder. Briefly, she imagined…….. Sternly reminding herself to take a cold shower later, and to sign up for Kirsten's new company, as soon as it opened; she continued to shoo them towards the door. ''Kaitlyn will give me this character's description, and I'll have some bodyguards hired before lunch tomorrow.''

''Mom!''

''No protests, young lady.'' She just barely kept from snapping at her baby girl. She didn't need **both** her kids to start fighting her on every little thing. And until someone (cops, Ryan, whomever) dealt with Volchok, she wanted them safe. ''Marissa will be getting one, too.'' More than one, if she had any say in it. She may just have to hire a private investigator to find the girl, though. She was out more often than not, and trying to track her down at school was no sure thing, with all the classes she'd been skipping. ''Thanks for the warning, Ryan; and don't worry about work tomorrow. No……'' She held up a manicured hand to halt his protests. ''…..you have college applications to submit and, rough as it's been; tonight's not over yet.''

''Night.'' Taylor said, grabbing her boyfriend's wrist and twisting slightly to get a look at his watch. ''School night.''

''Curfew.'' Ryan suddenly became much more willing to leave, taking his girl's hand and all but running out the door. ''Good night, Julie. Kaitlyn.''

''Good night! It was nice to meet you! Maybe we can go shopping sometime……..'' Julie closed the door blocking out the sight of the girl waving (somehow as perky in gesture as her voice sounded) as she was dragged down the driveway.

''She's insane.'' Kaitlyn commented drily, picking up her scattered clothes. ''It's great.''

''She's good for him.'' She joined the youngster in picking up, making one huge pile at the edge of the room. She was wavering between having a service retrieve the donation, therefore keeping her girl safely at home; or hiring a handful of burly security types to escort her everywhere she went, thereby alienating another daughter. ''So, tell me what this Volchok looks like.''

''Kind of like the bad sides of Ryan and Luke had a love-child.''


	6. Seth

**A/N: ** Last post this weekend. Again with the twisting of canon. Enjoy.

--xxx—

''You don't want me to **be** smart, is that it?''

''No, that's not……''

''You're afraid I'll leave you if I get **too **smart, so you have to keep me brainless and Newpsified?''

''No! Summer, I……''

''What is it gonna take to get through to you? Should I go stand on the coffee cart? Is that what you want?''

''Okay, that would be cool; but it's not…….''

A piercing whistle interrupted the battle, drawing both their attention to their tablemates. Seth was sure he spotted disappointment on the faces around them as he and his girlfriend turned to see Taylor taking her fingers out of her ears and Ryan taking his out of his mouth.

''Thank you, Ryan.''

You're welcome.''

''Look you two.'' General Townsend crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at them both. He'd noted the similarities between his girlfriend and his brother's before; but the dark gaze she was piercing him with made the resemblance decidedly more marked. Maybe Doctor Roberts had an affair? Of course, that would mean he slept with Veronica and, despite the evidence of the girl's existence; he doubted there was any man that seriously hard up. ''Fighting over which college to apply to is ludicrous. There's more than enough options out there.''

''It's not **which** college, it's that Cohen doesn't want me to go to **his** college.'' Summer sounded so hurt, he turned to her to try, once again; to explain the problem.

Taylor beat him to it.

''Brown only takes one student from the OC system per year. That's why I'm not applying.'' He felt a surge of relief for a fear he wasn't even aware he had. The girl had a good shot at valedictorian, so that she wasn't going to compete with him for his chosen future was a good thing.

''Oh.'' Summer looked at him regretfully, the way she always did (on the rare occasions) when she was wrong. He wasn't even tempted to gloat, she looked too hurt at having suspected him of denying her potential. He wished he knew how to reassure her he would never do such a thing. That she was intelligent was no surprise, not to the guy who'd practically worshiped her for seven years.

Knowing she was as smart as him, if not smarter; just made every other thing about her better.

''I tried to tell you.'' Seth didn't want her to be mad at him for not wanting to go to some fun-in-the-sun college. As great a wrench as it would be to be apart from her (and his family) he wanted **out**. Out of Newport, out of California; just **out**. Somewhere where he wouldn't be the freak and loser he was here. ''I guess we could flip for it.'' He wanted to go to Brown; but not if she wanted it, too. Anyone else, he'd fight tooth and claw; but he wasn't going to be selfish enough to deny his angel her chance.

''There's a better way.'' Taylor declared, shifting through the far-larger stack of college applications in front of her; compared to the mere handful the others had.

The four, like the other seniors; were enjoying a free period to sort through their options. College catalogues (basically a magazine of advertisements for universities around the globe) had been provided during home room; and their final hour of classes had been canceled to give them the opportunity to go through their options before dragging their parents to the College Fair that night.

''We can't **both** attend Brown, you said they only take** one**.'' Summer protested, glancing at him (he nodded affirmation) before returning her chocolate eyes to her house-mate.

''Applying isn't the same as attending.'' Finding what looked to be a hand-written list, not the forms he was expecting; the other girl folded her hands on top of the paper, presenting her friends with a stern expression. ''Who knows? This may be the year they take two. In case they don't, however; you each need a back-up and you both need an alternative.''

''I'm not sure I follow, Tay.'' His girlfriend furrowed her brow as adorably as she did everything else. ''Back-up and alternative are the same thing, aren't they?'' Ryan shrugged, appeared confused as well. Nice to know that he wasn't going to be overshadowed right away, Seth thought. He got it, and he wasn't **quite** mature enough not to relish the jump (however small or brief) he had on his friends.

''No, I think I see what she means. We each need somewhere in Rhode Island, see; if one of us gets into Brown and the other doesn't.'' Seth smiled, seeing the spark in her eyes; knowing it was just a matter of time before she caught on. This intelligence of hers was going to be so cool, they could totally bond on a whole other level; making their connection even deeper.

Hunh, he was getting turned on.

Not that uncommon around Summer, actually; but this time the motivations were different.

Her melodious voice cut into his fantasies of his girlfriend in a librarian outfit, complete with horn-rim glasses.

''**And** we need somewhere else to go together, that isn't so tight-assed about how many they take.'' All seemed to be forgiven as the tiny dynamo tucked herself once more into his side and started flipping through her catalogue.

Silence reigned as the teens made their choices, broken by the occasional distant laughter or startled exclamation. As the last bell grew closer, several groups started chattering, one in the corner was even singing some athletic fight song. Taylor sighed, drawing a line through the neat list she was making in the notebook she'd purchased (as she'd told them when they all sat down) for just this occasion.

''Problem?'' She'd helped him, it was only fair that he return the favor.

And if it was too tough, he knew Ryan would be all over it.

''I'm not applying to Notre Dame if those goons are going to be there.'' Seth glanced towards the singing group: a bunch of jocks, all of whom were long-time members of the 'make-Cohen-suffer' club. When he was turning back around, he caught the pleased expression on his brother's face. Looks like someone doesn't like the idea of her being on the other side of the country, he mused. ''Have you found your options yet?'' Moses, it was unbelievable; how much his brother and the girl had in common. Like changing the focus onto someone else when they were uncomfortable.

''Well, I was thinking about Providence; for my back-up? It's even in the same city as Brown, and it's got some interesting courses.'' Summer tilted the catalogue so the other girl could see what she was considering.

''I could always try for RISD. Rhode Island School of Design?'' He elaborated for the blank faces. Even Taylor didn't get that one. No surprise, though; she wasn't an artist. ''It's kind of like the Julliard of art schools. I figure, with Atomic County; I stand a pretty good shot.'' Seth _actually_ thought that he was over-reaching, but it couldn't hurt to take the chance. ''There's always Penn State or NYU for our alternatives.''

''I picked those, too!'' Summer gushed at him, throwing her arms around him for a hug. He returned it enthusiastically, taking the coincidence as more proof that they belonged together. ''You two could apply there as well, and then we could **all** be together.''

''Brown only takes one, remember?'' Ryan's quiet voice cut across whatever his girlfriend had been about to say; bringing them back to the reason the other colleges were even being considered. Seth gave his brother a sharp look, wondering what the problem was now. It wasn't like the other boy to dump cold water on someone else's ideas; not the good ones, anyway. So what was……

Oh, of course. His dad had said that Ryan still had self-confidence issues. He _could_ be worried about losing Taylor (possible valedictorian, social chair, etc.) to some high-class, less monosyllabic frat boy. The poor guy didn't have a Zach-rejection to reassure him, either. He needed to say something to take the girl's focus off the blonde boy; before the other ended up in his** own** college-motivated fight with his girlfriend. Something relevant to the conversation, something that would take advantage of his brother's tendency to put others first…..

Right, got it.

''Dude, **you** can't apply anyway.'' The taller boy nodded at the frown, ignoring the dark look he got from Taylor. ''You **have** to go to Berkeley, keep Dad and his vision of a family legacy alive. He's been planning my attendance from the cradle; **one** of us has to go or he'll freak.'' It wasn't that far from reality. He hadn't been planning on telling his parents where he'd applied until after the interviews were over. He didn't want to disappoint them, or hurt their feelings; but he also didn't want to be trapped on the West Coast when the East Coast was calling to him. ''I **can't** stay, you seriously have to look after them for us. You know how they get when left to their own devices.'' The possibilities ran through his mind and he wondered suddenly if UCLA would really be that bad. ''They'll go back to work, and stop talking; and it'll be worse than before you got here….'' There was a startled glance at that, but he was too caught up in the horror of what could happen. ''……because they won't have me to fuss over, and no kid from Chino to snap them out of it and they'll end up hating each other and get divorced and be miserable……….''

''Seth!'' He ground to a stop, staring at his brother with wide and frightened eyes. Sometimes having a good imagination wasn't that great a thing. Ryan's eyes were full of tender (and utterly amazed) affection, the first time he'd seen …….. No, wait; he **had** seen that look before. That first Chrismakkuh, when he'd handed over the stocking. Both boys ducked their heads away, the emotion too intense to maintain eye contact. ''I was gonna apply to Berkeley anyway.'' The blonde mumbled, fiddling with his catalogue. Just as his girlfriend had, he changed the subject to take attention off himself. ''So where are **you** going, Taylor?''

''Well, that depends on who says 'yes'.'' Taylor accepted the change, smiling with obvious delight as she shifted a little closer. The other boy's arm went automatically over the back of her chair. Seth exchanged a smirk with his girlfriend, hoping that his brother never found out about the bet they had on, about when the other couple would _finally_ do the deed. They'd only been going out a month or two, but you could jump-start the sun off the energy between them, some days. That much self-control was ridiculous, if admirable. Besides, the boy might be less broody if he was getting some. ''I've applied to NYU, UCLA, Penn State, Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Berkeley, Oxford, and the Sorbonne.'' He was impressed at the quality of the institutions on her list. From the raised eyebrows, so was Ryan. ''I suppose I have to cross out the last two.''

''Why?'' Summer either didn't see the glare the blonde boy was giving her or didn't care in her concern for her friend. He suspected the later. ''The Sorbonne would be so cool; it's totally the French Harvard, right? **And** you get to live in Paris. Paris!'' He shook his head at her eager look, resolving to explain to her later about how a person who'd never had friends wasn't going to want to ditch the ones they'd finally managed to make to return to their friendless hell.

''Oh, I'm on the terrorist watch list. No airline will have me.'' She didn't seem too broken up about it, but he knew how good she was at hiding her emotions; something else she had in common with his brother.

Looked like this was his chance to repay that favor.

''You know, my Dad could probably fix that for you.'' Seth glanced sideways, wondering why his girlfriend was kicking him. She didn't even bother to look up, being too busy gushing about Paris and how it was 'the best city on Earth'. When she paused for breath, he went on. ''Talk to him tonight, I'm sure he'd be glad to help. He loves to take on 'the man'.'' The angle of the blows connecting with his shins registered and he turned disbelieving brown eyes to meet the ice-blue glare of his best friend.

''Great idea! Thanks, Seth.'' The bell rang, scattering the students; their girls swiftly pecking their cheeks as they took off for social committee. Prom, apparently; still didn't have a theme and that was, somehow, a _**major crises**_. He was frozen by the anger across the table, though; unable to even stand.

''Yeah; thanks, Seth.'' Ryan had been a Cohen long enough to master the skill of sarcasm, it appeared. And lived in Newport long enough to perfect the quick exit. The seats around his table were suddenly empty. He jumped up to chase after his brother,

''Ryan! Ryan, man; I'm sorry.'' Seth caught up with the guy in the courtyard, ignoring the way the other clenched his jaw when he did so. ''I'm an idiot, it never occurred to me what that meant in reality. I just wanted to help, because she's been so great to all of us and she deserves to have someone do something for **her**. I mean, aside from Mom's thing and Doctor Robert's thing ……''

''It's okay, I get it.'' They walked in silence for a short while, comfortable with each other and their friendship; if not the knowledge that the future was coming**, changes** were coming, and there was nothing they could do about it.

Being Seth, though; he couldn't leave it alone.

''She's not gonna _leave._ You heard her, she applied to Berkeley too. That's as good a school as Harvard or Yale; so it's not like she's holding herself back.'' They made the turn towards the parking lot, both their schedules clear for a change. Comic club was only once a week, and with the sets and props already complete for the next presentation, there was no reason they couldn't go home for some Seth/Ryan quality time. Video games and comic books, then back to the campus for the college fair with the 'rents. Not his favorite plan for his evening (that would include Summer and privacy), but still fun. ''Seriously, she's not gonna give up the first friends she's ever had to go to _**France.**_'' He put disdainful emphasis on the word, snorting to underline the unlikelihood of the event. ''Look, we'll go home; Mom'll laugh herself sick about you worrying so much about you and Taylor……'' the Rover came into view and he paused, frowning ''What do you know? A picnic. On our car.''

''Oh, you guys. **Finally**.'' It was the goons from the diner, which could only mean that the strange guy was the mysterious Volchok.

Oh _**man**_. They were **so** screwed.

''Seth, get security.'' Good plan. No, wait. Bad plan. No way was he leaving this group alone with his best friend. Ryan hadn't been in a street fight (cage matches being something else again) in _**years**_. He wasn't going to take off so his brother could start a new career as a vegetable or (from the nasty look to the four on the Rover) a pile of hamburger.

''Maybe we should go get them together.'' He'd hoped the reminder that the student body of Harbor wasn't a safe environment for him, personally; would motivate Ryan to leave. This was bad, it was _**so**_ bad. He could tell, from memories of how the guy had looked prior to beatings of Oliver and Luke; that the shorter boy was moments away from a smack-down.

All it would take is the thug saying the wrong thing, _doing_ the wrong thing…….

He made sure to be out of arm's reach of the group with tattoos, not wanting to be the cause of the other Cohen's (by choice if not blood) getting thumped.

''Security? We're just talking.'' Right. And **he** was just a water-polo player in a **really** good disguise. ''Nothing's gonna……'' Soda splattered on the hood, the surf Nazi's smirk that of every bully who'd ever taunted him. The 'I know I done bad, what're you gonna do about it' smile.

''It's okay. Little soap and water……'' He had to keep this from happening. The second chance his brother had been given at the hearing wouldn't mean squat if he threw down on school property. Especially if he threw the first punch, which appeared very possible.

''I'm not gonna fight you.'' Seth nearly fainted, to hear those words from the other boy was a tremendous relief. Now if only the goon squad would take the hint and leave. Or, more likely; if only some other student would call security.

''Did you hear that? Rich boy don't wanna get his hands dirty.'' There was a squeal as Volchok slid off the hood to stand in front of Ryan, Seth resisted the urge to grab his friend's arm. Getting in between two guys when a fight was imminent was never good. Look how bad it'd turned out for Mercutio, for instance. ''I **know** you got it in you. I bet you're just _itching_ to throw down again. I just gotta find the key.'' He was ridiculously glad that Taylor wasn't there. If there was anything more likely to push his brother over the edge, it was something happening to his new girlfriend. ''Uhp. Look what I found.'' This time, he didn't fight the urge to put his hand on the shorter boy's arm, feeling the tremble in the muscles as the fingers curled into fists; the crunching sound of gritting teeth lost under the high-pitched shriek of keys being dragged across his mother's paint job. ''Y'know what I just realized? She doesn't have a name. I think I'll call her ……Lil' Bitch.'' Oh, he wouldn't.

Well, apparently; he would.

Seth tightened his own jaw, watching the car that had been entrusted to their care be defaced with profanity. He almost missed his brother's swift turn, the other boy walking (stalking, really) through the hastily parting crowd.

''Just keep walking.'' The blonde advised, speaking low and steady, despite the tremble to his fists.

''This isn't over.'' Seth refused to look, refused to give the Asshat the satisfaction. He was too busy planning, anyway. He needed to get his father alone for ten minutes, once they got home.

Ryan's history with this guy be damned, they had to take the risk that the police would express an interest in the other boy's cage-fighting career.

It was time to call the cops.


	7. Convo

**A/N: **Another chapter of experiments. Hope it doesn't confuse anyone.

--xxx—

''Can I talk to you guys?''

''Sure, kid.'' Sandy straightened up so that there was some space between him and his wife. They'd been planning on taking advantage of the boys going out, after college fair, and been making out (like kids themselves) on the couch. He should've known Ryan wouldn't let it go 'til tomorrow, though. Not with the way Kirsten had reacted (only a little upset, but still) to the words on the door of the SUV. He'd had a head's-up from Seth, and he'd warned his wife; so everyone (except maybe the boy before them) was ready for this conversation. ''What's going on?''

''It's kinda about the Rover……?'' Ryan wiped his hands on his jeans, slowly sinking down to take a seat on the ottoman. This was gonna be rough, especially facing Kirsten about his early-summer stupidity. It was a good thing Sandy was already in the know, he didn't think he could face them if **both** parents were ignorant of his past misdeeds.

''This have anything to do with its new name?'' Kirsten felt tender sympathy when the boy nodded morosely. It was so sweet of him to be so (unnecessarily) wound up about the minor (disturbing, but minor) damage to the family's vehicle. It was just so typically …..him. ''You don't have to worry, honey. A little paint and it'll be good as new.'' She was actually more concerned about the danger to him, then any trifling property damage.

''I think the problem's more of a 'who' than a 'what'; am I right?'' Sandy wasn't happy to see the nod. He'd hoped there wouldn't be any fallout from this summer, that the kids could have (despite how it started) a calm, drama-free senior year. The kind of senior year that people looked back on with fond recollection, not heartache. Best laid plans, he supposed.

''His name's Volchok.'' Ryan kept his eyes on his feet as he 'fessed up to the idiocy he'd engaged in at the beginning of summer. He especially didn't want to see the disappointment on his foster mother's face. Finally, _finally_, he stumbled to a halt with his account of how they'd fetched security; only to find the newly-christened Rover alone and abandoned in its parking space.

''Oh my God.'' Kirsten listened with horror to the details of what 'cage-fighting' really meant. Where was the boy she knew and cherished as her own in such behavior? At least there'd been enough of him left to rescue Kaitlyn, to let Sandy bring him the rest of the way 'home'. When he wound to a close with the story of how her car had been defaced, she went over and sat on the ottoman next to him; putting one arm around his shoulder and squeezing gentle reassurance. ''We're proud of you, sweetie.'' She gave him a kiss on the forehead when he glanced up in surprise (at her gestures? Or her words?); relieved that his nervousness at the college fair didn't have anything to do with his future.

''She's right. You just need to keep doing the right thing, the hard thing: walk away.'' Sandy knew that **that** would be the hardest part for his shorter son; to walk away when he could so easily 'deal' with the situation. He wanted to make sure, though; that the younger man understood the real reasoning (if you could call Volchok's motivations 'reasoning') here. ''Because I promise you; whatever's making this guy mad? It isn't you.''

''I know.'' Ryan felt purged; exhausted, but in a good way. They seemed to be accepting of his mistakes, like they'd already forgiven him. Taylor had been right, when she'd dragged him aside at the fair with a hissing insistence that he tell his foster parents what had happened. Her point that Kirsten might be in danger was what brought him here, and it'd been just like she'd said: they supported him, in spite of his bringing this asshole into their lives. He wasn't surprised that she knew: not with her living with Summer, not with Seth's track record of (not) keeping secrets. Which meant she was probably right about the rest of it. ''Should we call the cops?''

''Good idea.'' Sandy barely kept from grinning wide. He'd wanted to contact his friends on the force from the moment he'd heard about the incident at the diner. He knew, though; that the decision ultimately had to be his foster son's. That had been a hard sell to his wife, but she'd eventually seen that they either had to start trusting their kids' decisions or they'd end up alienating (Ryan) or suffocating (Seth) the two young men. ''No time like the present?'' Getting a short nod, he stood up from his far-too-comfortable seat on the couch. ''Excuse me.'' No need to subject his family to the strings he'd be pulling.

''It'll be okay.'' Kirsten rubbed her hand up and down his upper arm soothingly, still feeling the tension throughout the stocky frame. She was hoping that he couldn't tell that she was a little upset about what she'd just learned. When Sandy had told her about the summer 'fighting', he'd made it sound like the kind of fights where Ryan was pulled in by circumstances outside his control. **Not** the kind of fights where the boy had gone out looking for (or looking to hand out) physical abuse. ''We'll get this sorted out and then all you'll have to think about is graduating.'' He snorted, and she sighed in acknowledgement. Much as she might wish otherwise (unfair as it was), when had this boy's life ever been that easy?

''Marissa was an abusive relationship.'' Ryan knew that the woman wanted to understand **why** he'd done what he'd done and, unlike his girlfriend, she couldn't read his mind. Hell, it was only due to (recent, halting and painful) conversations with Taylor that he himself had been able to admit to what he'd been thinking (or not) and feeling at the time. ''She manipulated me emotionally, used me……'' He was more thankful than ever they'd never had sex. Aside from the risk of an STD (he was clean, he wasn't as sure about her): there was also the fact that such an act, with such a build-up behind it, would've permanently ensnared him. ''I was **so **_**sure**_ that I loved her, I couldn't see anything else.'' Her bad points seemed so _obvious_, now that he'd acknowledged her for what she was. Every time he thought about it, he started wondering how he could've been so stupid and (unfortunately) if what he **thought** was going on with his current girlfriend was actually **what** was going on.

''Now you listen to me.'' Kirsten knelt on the floor in front of him, putting her hands on his shoulders so she could keep him facing her. The troubled blue eyes were filled with doubt, with what she'd bet was a long-held fear. A fear that he wasn't good enough, that no one could ever connect with him, ever truly 'love' him; because he was 'damaged goods', worthless, incapable of measuring up to some internal (impossible) standard. ''You are a **good** son to me and Sandy, a **terrific** brother to Seth, and an **amazing** young man in every other regard. I just wish you could believe that.'' She brushed some hair away from his forehead, keeping her other hand on his shoulder despite his uncomfortable shifting of position. He tried to duck his head, to look away; she gripped his chin and gently forced him to meet her gaze. ''I know it's hard for you to have faith in people, Ryan. Everyone you've ever loved '' she'd slap the stupid girl herself, given half the chance; Julie be damned ''has really hurt you and I'm sorry. But you have to know that **we** honestly love you.'' She put her arms around him, giving him a break from her tenderly honest regard with her embrace. ''Anytime you doubt that, I'll be here to set you straight.''

''promise?''

Sandy blinked back moisture at the wavering plaintiveness of the question, a tone so completely unlike what he was used to hearing from the young man. His wife's whispered surety that she 'promised' made him want to cheer, made him want to join in the moment. He knew, though, that he had to remain in the doorway until the two blonde Cohens (one of which was mis-named Atwood) stopped clinging to each other. The kid would never want to know his moment of 'weakness' had a witness, especially a male one, _especially_ the head of the family. So, as much as he ached for his son, he **had** to let his wife handle it.

His _**wife**_ handle it.

Now he _really_ needed a minute to get control of himself.

Because she was back, she was finally, completely, **back**.

The Kirsten had returned.


	8. Ryan

**A/N: **

--xxx—

The week hadn't been that bad, really.

Except for the psychotic stalker, that is.

Ryan sighed, trying to dislodge the thought of Volchok as he waited for the bartender to fetch his order. Whoever The Bait Shop's new manager was, they seriously needed to find better help. Four Mountain Dews shouldn't take this long to serve. Looking back towards the dance floor, he smiled as he saw his girlfriend dancing with Summer. He had to stifle a snicker when he saw the rapt, glaze-eyed expression on Seth's face. The girls looked hot, per usual; he was taking the glances their way in small doses, so he didn't end up like his brother. Last thing he needed was to get distracted while the Surf Nazi was hanging around.

Shit.

Tonight was _supposed_ to be about relaxing, about **forgetting** that a thug was hovering over his family like a bad storm, forgetting that the bitch (one of them, anyway) he'd fucked during those idiot weeks in the cage had dropped by the house.

_-flashback-_

''Why Don Quixote?'' He didn't want to ask Taylor. What if it was some message she was trying to send him? He didn't want her to know he couldn't figure it out on his own.

Hence his acceptance of Trevor's offer of a ride home, after drama club.

He actually needed it, too. The Rover was in the shop, Sandy had a late court appearance, Taylor's Thunderbird wouldn't fit (comfortably) more than two, and Summer had rode in with her housemate. Seth and his 'geek army' weren't an option, as the only one of **that** group who had a car of his own was Zach; and his brother was deep in paperwork with Atomic County's producer for the rest of the night. Turns out the guy was using the graphic novel as a resume as well; to get into NYU's business program. So, he'd been resigned to biking it; when his drama club buddy had caught him coming out of the parking lot.

BMW made some pretty comfortable seats.

They just looked a little odd dyed royal blue.

''Because the administration** insists** on one contemporary play and one classical one, and while we don't usually **do** two musicals a season…….'' The slimmer boy did one of those elaborate shrugs he seemed so good at, the steering wheel rock-steady in his grip. ''Of course, we would've **preferred** Shakespeare; but the juniors are doing **that** for when they take over in spring, and the rule is only **one** of old Bill's per **year**, so…….''

Ryan nodded, relieved that he hadn't, after all; failed to read his girlfriend. Summer had started dropping major hints, ever since college fair, that he needed to be more 'attentive'. He took that to mean he was missing something but, so far, he couldn't nail down what it was. He'd probably be having better luck concentrating on the relationship if Volchok wasn't hovering around.

After the parking lot incident, he'd only seen the asshole from a distance. It was like, having established his presence, he was now backing off; giving Ryan time to think things over. Making sure that he wasn't forgotten, that the Cohen's ward knew that he was still around. That's not gonna last, he thought to himself. Sooner or later, he'll get tired of waiting and make his next move. I just need to remember: walk away. This guy's not worth giving up my parent's respect.

''Who the heck?'' Trevor was pulling to a stop at the base of the driveway to the Cohen mansion, headlights throwing the figure standing there into high relief. For a minute, the boy in the passenger seat thought it might be Marissa; until the dull red tint to the hair became apparent.

''Heather.'' Fuck. Of **all** the people he didn't want to see. He waited until the other teen parked the car, climbing out warily. The two boys went around to lever Ryan's bike out of the trunk, the girl (still caught in the high-beams) fidgeting as she waited. ''What?'' He was in no mood to be civil. She had no right to be here, no reason or excuse to inflict herself into his life.

''I wanted to give back your jacket.'' She held it out to him, seeming surprised when he glared instead of taking it. ''Since we're not going out anymore……'' Ryan just barely managed to keep from shouting at her, his hands white-knuckled on the handlebars of his bike.

''We fucked, we didn't date.'' She flinched, dropping the leather on the ground between them. No **way** did he believe that the jacket had anything to do (besides an excuse) with why she was really here. Unlike the thug stalking him, though; **he** was smart enough to figure out what** was** going on. ''Tell Volchok I don't care if he knows where I live. I'm not going to waste my time beating the shit out of him. **Again**.'' Wouldn't hurt to remind the moron that he'd already come out the loser when things between them got physical. Not that he thought it'd get him to back off; but it might just push him into doing something more than hanging around and making vague threats. Something the cops could nail him for. ''I've got more important things to do.'' Like finishing his college applications. Taylor had challenged him, saying that if he applied to at least three schools (Berkeley, UCLA, California School of Architecture), she'd cut her list down to five (two of which turned out to be Berkeley and UCLA) and discard the overseas choices entirely.

It was a total win-win.

Provided he got the applications finished in time to file them.

''You'll change your mind.'' Heather scowled at him, turning (unsteadily) on her heel to stomp away in an unwarranted huff. ''About a lot of things.'' She tried to put a wiggle into her walk as she went along, and nearly fell on her ass. Volchok may be clean and sober these days, Ryan thought; but his bed-warmer certainly isn't. Walking more normally, the girl finally managed to climb into a darkened van parked down the street.

''Okay, what were you _**on**_?'' Trevor asked, staring at him incredulously as the vehicle roared to life and took off. ''It had to be some serious shit for you to…..''

''I wasn't thinking straight.'' He didn't want to get into it, not tonight. Not when he wasn't going to be seeing Taylor until tomorrow. Not when there was a distinct possibility that the slut had gone up to the house.

God, he hoped not.

Facing your past mistakes with your girlfriend was one thing.

Having your mother come face to face with evidence of your appalling lack of taste and judgment was another.

''Sweetheart ….''**that **was creepy''…….I get the impression you weren't _thinking_ at all.'' He shifted uncomfortably as the other boy eyed him up and down and smirked. ''At least, not with the brains in your head.'' He flushed a dark shade of pink and cleared his throat. Where was Taylor when he really needed her? Oh, right. Trying to settle the prom/social committee war (over themes to the rest of the year's dances versus the prom) without any further (one girl, reportedly, kept bursting into tears and another refused to speak to anyone without a lawyer) casualties. ''What were you going to do with this?'' Trevor kicked the leather and he shrugged, thankful that the guy was off the subject of his (seriously _schwejo_) one-night stand.

''Chuck it.'' He didn't want the thing, not when his girlfriend had expressed a preference for his new denim look. She ever wanted to see him in leather, he'd just get a new one, anyway.

''Mind if I……..?'' He shook his head, watching with amusement as his friend (creepily checking him out or not, the guy was still a friend) picked the garment up at arm's length, holding it between the tips of two fingers.

''Have it fumigated.'' Ryan suggested, grinning when he saw the grimace of acknowledgement on the other's face.

''**Definitely**.''

_- end flashback- _

He focused on the drinks (finally) in front of him, handing over the money and taking the little cardboard tray the bartender offered so he wouldn't have to dip his fingers in soda to carry the cups. Seth was still gazing slack-jawed at the two girls dancing away; barely acknowledging his presence when he nudged him. Sighing, he briefly entertained the idea of dumping the drinks over his brother's head. Only the thought that it wouldn't have the slightest effect kept him from trying it.

''Thanks, Ryan.'' Taylor's smile as she took her drink was dazzling, he made sure to duck his head; just in case he had a goofy look on his face.

''Yeah, thanks, Atwood.'' Summer's tone was teasing. She took her drink and moved off, Seth trailing after her like she had him on a leash. The guy had to come back for his own 'Dew, so focused was he on dancing attendance on his girlfriend.

''Those two.'' The auburn beauty shook her head, smiling in amusement. He put his arm around her shoulder, breathing in her intoxicating aroma. They stood quietly for a while, enjoying the band and each other's presence, ditching their empty cups. He was just about to whisper in her ear (something about finding a dark corner, or getting out of there) when he spotted one of Volchok's cronies at the bar. '"What is it?'' She didn't even have to see his face, she picked up on the tension that tightened his arm around her. Ryan nodded towards the bar, dropping his hand from her shoulder to the small of her back. ''We should go.'' As much as he resented being forced to bail, he knew it made sense. The girls had each brought their own vehicle so, once they reached the Thunderbird; he'd give Seth a head's up and they'd be home-free.

''Leaving already, bro?'' Fuck. Volchok. So much for the 'home-free' plan.

Remember what Sandy said, he coached himself. Use your brain. This guy's not worth the consequences.

''Just get out of the way.'' He was proud of his tone: bored, with just the slightest touch of disinterest. He felt a calm chill coming over him; the only thing grounding him was the soft touch of a small hand on his right arm.

''Or what? You're not gonna fight me, I know that.'' The idiot reached out and made as if to touch his girlfriend's hair. He was just starting to growl, energy throbbing angry through his body, when Taylor slapped the boy's hand aside. ''Whoa! I like 'em feisty.'' His vision was narrowing, he tried desperately to regain control; remembering what had happened the last time he'd lost it like this.

''She looks like a fighter.'' Heather commented, eyeing the other girl with a smirk. ''All ……stocky and shit.'' It was his turn to hold someone back, keeping her from launching herself at the skank; pulling his date around behind him so they could leave. If they could just get past these two morons, they'd be all right. She picked up on his plan, beginning to make her way through the crowd.

Unfortunately, the press of other teenage bodies forced her within arm's reach of the surf Nazi.

''Hold up, girl.'' Volchok reached out and did the unthinkable, the unforgivable.

He laid a hand on Taylor.

Ryan barely noticed his girl yanking her elbow from the other's grip, he was too focused, too far gone into his rage.

_He laid a hand on Taylor_.

He grabbed two fistfuls of fabric, spinning the guy to get him off-balance; pressing the other's back (he hoped painfully) into a table.

'_**'You don't touch her**_.'' It was barely recognizable as his voice, so darkly intense and full of eager threat. The glint of victory in the other boy's eyes was confusing. Didn't he know that he was about to die for his crime?

**He laid a hand on **_**Taylor**_.

''So that's what gets you going.'' The words were like a bucket of cold water, he let the bouncer push him away, barely hearing the moron getting tossed in the realization of what he'd done.

He saw the fear in his girlfriend's face, the resignation as she came over to him. She knew what he'd done, he wished there were better words than 'I'm sorry' to make up for his vast miscalculation. Off all the dumbass shit, he scolded himself. You just handed him the lever he needs to get the upper hand, showed him your weak spot.

The button that needed to be pressed to keep Ryan from thinking his way out of this situation had just been revealed with one simple act:

When Volchok laid a hand on Taylor.


	9. Taylor

**A/N: **I just realized last chapter I put an author's note w/o saying anything. And I can't remember what I was going to say.

Happy (at this point, belated) Birthday, Waltzy? I think that was it.

--xxx—

''Drat.'' Taylor frowned at her image in the mirror, smoothing the velvet waistband of the low-cut green dress she was trying on. ''I look like a hooker.'' No one argued with her, because no one else in the store was nearby. Sighing, she turned back to the dressing room. ''This is why I don't like to shop alone.'' However much she tried to block it out, her mother's voice always started carping in her head whenever she was trying on clothes; unless she had a friend around to drown it out.

Unfortunately, all her friends (that was a great phrase – **all** her _**friends**_) were busy.

Summer and Seth were at their Brown interviews. Why the Brown people had to have their interviews on a Saturday was beyond her, but there it was. She wasn't close enough to any of the prom or social committee girls to go shopping with them (even after solving the conflict with prom and the other events) and she hadn't dared to ask Kirsten, despite being given permission to use the woman's first name. Besides, the woman was really busy, setting up for NewMatch's opening gala, later that night. Trevor was making sure everything was ready for next weekend's premier of Don Quixote and Ryan was helping his mother. Not that she wanted his help with this one, anyway. She wanted to take him by surprise, to see his unthinking response to how she looked when she really put some effort into it.

Maybe then…….

''Oh, I'm so sorry. I really didn't see……..Kaitlyn?'' Lowering the stack of dresses in her arms to see who she'd run into, Taylor blinked amazement at the younger teen.

''Hey, Taylor.'' The other girl had an armful of couture as well, dressed in the same sensible (for trying on multiple selections) outfit of summer dress and sandals.

''It's good to see you.'' She tried not to be too obvious about peering behind the pre-teen, frowning when she didn't see anyone. ''Are you by yourself?'' That wasn't a good idea, not with last night's little Volchok debacle. She'd called Julie herself, after dropping off a brooding Ryan. The woman had said that she had things 'in hand', so what was this little lady doing at the mall all on her lonesome?

''You sound like Mom.'' The Cooper girl shifted the load in her arms, scowling to herself as she did so. ''She's at the spa while I shop for a dress for tonight. I normally wouldn't let her drag me to this 'Newport meets the Love Connection' thing but, since it gets me out of the house……..'' They both set their rejections on the counter, making their way over to the racks of other choices.

''You'd be more than welcome at the Roberts'. They have a home gym, and a slightly more reasonable pool than the one at your place.'' Taylor bit her lip, thinking more of the looks Neil had been giving Julie at the hearing. And vice versa. His divorce was final, now; and Mrs. Cooper-Nichol could use a new beau to snap her out of her widow's funk. She should be more subtle, though. Ryan had said the girl was pretty sharp, and no telling how she'd react to someone match-making her mother. ''Or the Cohens. My thumbs could use the break from Play Station.''

''Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll wait until Mom chooses a bodyguard.'' She thought the older woman might be stalling on that one. It was certainly keeping Kaitlyn close to home, it might even be reigning in Marissa, a little. Doubtful, that; but still remotely possible. ''What's with the last-minute dress hunt? Between your own stuff and Summer's, you should have tons of awesome stuff.''

''I just wanted a special outfit for tonight, that's all.'' The older girl wanted something to let her boyfriend know she wasn't mad about his blunder, to let him know that she was still his; if he wanted her. Their connection didn't seem as sure as it had before, what with the lack of a kiss good night, last night. She fiddled with the straps of a sequined number, shaking her head at the image she'd make in it. ''Something to make me beautiful.'' She said it wistfully, letting the sparkling cloth fall back into line.

''Okay, Ryan needs to crawl back into that cage for one more beating.'' Surprised, she glanced over and saw Kaitlyn with her hands on her hips. The younger girl scowled at her startled expression, eyes narrowing. ''Hasn't he given you **any** compliments? Face, hair; butt, even?'' She shook her head, glad the section they were in was relatively deserted. No one needed to know how pathetic she was; that her boyfriend couldn't even say nice things about her. Well, he could; he just didn't call her _beautiful _or anything like that. ''Girl, if he hasn't noticed your butt; which is great, by the way: he's gay.'' That remark made her smile with its sheer ludicrousness.

''You're such a sweetie; but you don't have to do that.'' Pity wasn't what she wanted, especially from the little sister of her guy's unstable ex.

''What? Tell you when Ryan's being an idiot? 'Cause if he hasn't said **something** by now, he is.'' Could the other really not see? Maybe it was because she hadn't come all the way through puberty yet, that the younger girl didn't notice that Taylor wasn't as attractive as the other girls in Newport.

''No, the saying I'm pretty thing.'' There was a silence and the other girl muttered something unladylike under her breath. ''It's okay, I know I'm not as good-looking as some of the girls he's dated.'' She knew she had Heather beat; but 'bar-crawling-skanky-ho's' (Summer's term) didn't count. She could never even begin to compare with someone like Marissa, for instance.

''If you say one word about my sister, I swear to God I'll scream.'' So that's what having someone read your mind feels like, she mused wryly. Ryan was right, this girl's insight is a little creepy. Her confusion was real, which meant the pre-teen most likely meant the things she was saying. ''Hasn't he said anything? There's got to be **something**.''

''I asked him, once or twice.'' She all but flinched at the memory, remembering why she hadn't asked if he found her attractive more often. ''The first time, after he was through cussing my mother out, he said I was like the Taj Mahal. Second time, he just called me his 'Thunderbird'.'' Her throat still felt tight, remembering. She hadn't had the courage to find out what else he'd compare her to besides a building and her car.

''Wow.'' She nodded, accepting her boyfriend's less-than admirable attempts at compliments. Maybe now the girl understood what she was dealing with. Not all of his romantic endeavors turned out as well as 'their song', after all. ''You can really tell you don't have a lot of experience with boys.'' Wait, what? How was Ryan's lack of verbal expression her fault? ''Girl, what does he like? What are his favorite things?" Oh, she knew this; she knew him better than anyone, even the Cohens.

''Well, he likes peaches and hazel and Journey and …….'' Taylor trailed off, realizing what her boyfriend had been trying to say. ''Oh my God.'' Mentally, she completed the list of Ryan's favorites. Comic books. Video games. Anime. And (she could just kick herself): **Cars**. _**Architecture**_.

''He likes cars, right? Especially kick-ass sports cars like the current Thunderbird?'' She felt like screaming, maybe with some hysterical laughter thrown in. He **did** think she was beautiful, he just didn't use conventional means of comparison. It was only to be expected. After all, he didn't grow up going to opera or reading the classics; why would he use anything like that to try and show his appreciation?

''And the Taj Mahal is the world's most enduringly romantic building.'' It may be a tomb, but it had been designed and built out of love. A testament to that emotion that had touched (and inspired) thousands, perhaps millions. She owed him an apology, for doubting him. Summer needed one too; for listening to her whine about his lack of romantic (as opposed to hormonal) fervor.

''Glad I could help.'' That was honest. She smiled brightly at what might turn out to be another friend, getting what Ryan had meant by 'not all the Coopers are worthless'. At the time, she'd thought he was referring to his boss; but now she saw what there was something to admire in this generation of Coopers as well. ''Now. What color does he like you in?'' She wasn't about to turn down the offer of assistance, not when the other had already proven to be so amazingly savvy.

Memories of the look on his face when she'd come out for her swimming lessons, the expression he'd had the night of the 'beach party' gave her the answer before she even had to think.

''Red. He likes me in red.''

--xxx—

Taylor pulled up to the club, glancing around for the valet. She was late, but not to an extreme. Spending all that time chatting with Kaitlyn at the mall had thrown her schedule off. It was just so nice to talk with someone who wouldn't wrinkle their nose and change the subject when you got into intimate details, she mused. Summer's counsel was more realistic and applicable; but the younger girl's advice was more exciting. She'd really regretted having to go, despite knowing that Marissa was coming to pick her sister up. It would be just about worth seeing the look on that spoiled-brat's face when the girl saw her sister with her 'enemy'. She didn't want to cause trouble (well, any more than they already had) between the two, so she'd left; rushing when she realized what time it was. She was lucky not to have gotten a ticket.

Just as she was about to go inside in search of the errant lot-attendant, she heard a screech of tires. A beat-up green van pulled up uncomfortably close to where she was standing next to her vehicle, the side door sliding open practically in her face. She took a stance, making ready to drop her purse at the first sign of someone trying to force her inside. What she saw already in there, however, made her reconsider.

''Hey, girl.'' Volchok smirked, eyeing her in a very inappropriate manner. She would have no trouble correcting his behavior, violently; if it wasn't for one thing.

Kaitlyn was sitting between two of the Summer-dubbed 'goons', tears streaming down her face; wearing the same clothes she'd had on at the mall.

''Let her go.'' Taylor snapped, dropping her keys unobtrusively onto the seat of her car as she stepped forward. Plans were clicking through her head, thoughts moving at light-speed as she worked the problem. Knowing what the surf Nazi was really after helped. ''I'll take her place.''

''Taylor, don't……'' One of the jerks smacked the girl quiet and she fought to keep from charging in to teach him a lesson. Landscape, she reminded herself. Object one: get the other girl out of harm's way.

She was going to have some words for Julie, later; about how the amazing young lady had ended up **in** harm's way, though.

''You **know** he'll fight for me.'' She locked gazes with the leading idiot, willing him to remember their encounter, last night; when Ryan had looked ready to kill him. Willing him to recall what had driven her boyfriend to that point. Holding up her purse, she gave him a cold smile. ''You can even use my phone.''

''You're a real piece of work.'' The moron motioned to his boys, who tossed their unwilling passenger out, one of them tapping the slim figure on the back of the head with what looked like a metal bar.

''_Fils d'un chien femelle!_'' Caught in the act of climbing in, she didn't have the leverage to catch her new-made friend. There was a glint of red in the dark hair as they pulled away, door closing; that definitely wasn't a reflection off her car's paint job. ''She's just a little girl, you jerk!''

Turning to take the seat once occupied by the Cooper girl, she used the motion to punch the goon (the same one who'd smacked was the one who'd hit) right in the face. He fell back against the (unfortunately closed) door, hands flying to his face. His buddies just laughed as he moaned about his broken nose. Served him right. If Kaitlyn turned out to be seriously hurt, she was going to hunt this imbecile up and give him more than a broken nose. He'd be lucky if she left him with the ability to walk.

''Nice moves.'' The other goon was leering at her, putting a hand on her knee. ''Nice dress.''

''I didn't wear it for you, so hands off.'' Did these people take stupid pills every morning, or was it just an after-effect of indulging themselves with alcohol and (that nasty smell was making her dizzy and nauseous) whatever drugs they were on?

''Or what?'' Moron-grabby-hands slid his fingers up her thigh, making her wish she'd eaten something so she could vomit on him.

Taylor snatched his hand off of her leg, gripping very specifically and twisting.

''Jesus Christ!!'' His sudden scream of pain made Heather (she was more nervous about **that** girl being behind the wheel than what the losers in the back would do) swerve off-road slightly. He cradled his hand to his chest, moaning. ''Fucking bitch! Stop at a hospital!''

''What did you do?'' He seemed very unconcerned about his friend, they must not be close. She glared hazel into his vacant eyes and answered more civilly than any of them deserved.

''Dislocated his thumb.'' This time, she wasn't going to stop her guy from pummeling the snot out of someone. This time, in fact; she was going to be hard-pressed to stay back and let him handle it. People who threatened and hurt sweet little girls like Kaitlyn **deserved** to be put into the hospital, in her opinion. ''I can fix it, provided there's no further touching.'' Propriety aside, there was a risk of catching something. The group's hygiene wasn't what one would call 'good'.

''Do it.''

''Kevin!''

''Shut up, Carl.'' Volchok watched her carefully, pushing at his buddy's shoulder when he cringed away from her. There was (much-deserved) pain when she popped the joint back into place, making him scream and curse at her again. He moved as soon as she was done, climbing up into the passenger seat with many a resentful look backwards. Their leader was looking at her too, with the best version of a thoughtful expression someone with limited brain cells could manage. Finally, he spoke. ''You don't seem that worried about your boy.''

''Should I be?'' She raised her brows enquiringly, keeping her face composed with the practiced ease that living with her mother had given her.

What do you know? She thought to herself. Living with Veronica actually turned out to be good for something. Who knew?

''I'm not drunk, this time. He's going down.'' She didn't bother to correct his erroneous assumption of victory. They arrived at their destination fairly quick, she was unsurprised to see a disreputable section of the beach, pier dark and dismal to one side. Taylor shivered a little as she stepped out, the night air cool on her skin. ''Here.'' The surf Nazi was offering her a jacket; as if that gesture would make up for his behavior.

''I'm not fond of lice, thanks. Or fleas.'' He scowled, but didn't react. Tossing the (probably inhabited; certainly odiferous) garment back into the van and waved a hand; indicating the direction he wanted her to walk.

Oddly enough, neither of his buddies came within arm's reach of her. She couldn't help a little smile at their wariness (better late than never) that she made sure to swallow when Volchok matched pace with her, They reached the harder sand under the pier, she got into her purse and handed him her phone; catching him with his mouth open to make the request.

''First number on speed dial.'' She informed him briskly, clasping her hands together over her bag so no one could see her shaking. It wasn't whether or not Ryan could handle this guy; that was a given. He'd done it before, after all (she'd gotten a detailed rendition of his experiences with the moron, on their way home last night); and **that** had been after three other (victorious) fights.

What was making her stomach swirl was whether or not Ryan could keep from killing the bastard.

''Well, right now; I'm with your girlfriend………Are you there, little bitch?''

_-tbc-_

**A/N2: **Yes, I know I'm evil for leaving it there. VEG

French courtesy of Babelfish, so don't bother telling me it's wrong; it probably is.

It's as close as I could come to a curse word, so translation only for those who ask. EG

See you next chapter!


	10. Townwood

**A/N: ** So not only am I doing a slight temporal rewind, but I'm switching POV's. Apologies for any confusion.

--xxx—

''Hey, kid.'' Ryan just managed not to snap at his guardian. It'd been hard enough to work his way through the crowd to get this far, he didn't need any more delays; now that his goal was in sight. He continued to move towards the front door, the older man falling into step with him. ''You're not bailing on your mother, are you?'' He should, he snarked internally. A lot of NewMatch's clients seemed to be under the impression that, as the owner's son; he was on the menu.

He was tired of the artificial bimbos hitting on him; he wanted someone real.

He wanted Taylor.

''It's not like her to be late.'' He continued to move towards the front door, trying not to be worried. Summer had said that his girlfriend was wearing a new dress, so maybe there was some kind of girl thing related to **that** that explained the delay. Of course, this was _Taylor Townsend_. The fact she wasn't half an hour early was nerve-wracking, especially after one took into account the loser that was hanging around. He caught a glint of red through the frosted glass, smiling. ''There's her car.'' Sandy trailed after him as he went out to meet his girl, both men frowning when they saw no one around. He stepped forward to peer into the parking lot and caught sight of the figure on the ground out of the corner of his eyes. ''Sandy!'' Heart in his throat, he practically flew over to her side, falling to his knees to fumble for her pulse. Relieved as he was for Kaitlyn to still be breathing, he couldn't relax.

''Taylor wouldn't just leave her here.'' Having his fear spoken aloud didn't help in the slightest. He stood up, hoping against all sense that his girlfriend had just stepped away to call the ambulance. The empty lot seemed to mock his hopes, the other gently lifting hair to get a closer look at the wound. A large knot with a deep scratch (still leaking blood) marred the back of her head; ugly, but not as bad as it looked. He'd had worse when he was far younger than the unconscious girl at his feet. Just as he was about to reassure his pale-faced guardian, his phone sounded in his pocket. Pulling the cell out, he checked the caller id.

''Guess who.'' He hoped (ridiculous as it was) that Taylor had loaned her car to the Cooper girl, not that………''Hey, where are you?''

_''Well, right now, I'm with your girlfriend.'' _ His blood only ran cold for a minute, anger driving heat through his body until he was nearly shaking with it. _''Are you there, little bitch?'' _

''I'm here.'' He saw the concerned uplift of Sandy's dark head at his tone of voice, but ignored it. Right now, his only focus had to be getting Taylor out of this mess. ''Where?'' He was through walking away, the moron had finally pushed things too far.

It was time to finish this.

_''Under the pier…..'' _He nodded at the directions, recognizing the isolated location as one of his guardian's favorite surfing spots. _''You should hurry, I think she misses you.'' _There was laughter over the line, but his stomach refused to clench. Ryan knew that Volchok wouldn't try anything with the girl; that wasn't what this was about.

That, and Taylor would geld him if he tried.

''I'll be there.'' The thought of his girlfriend taking the bastard down made him smile, despite his dark mood. Worry flared bright in the other man's eyes, the tanned fingers tight around his own cell phone.

_''Don't call the cops, or me and the boys'll finish this.'' _Almost, he dared the guy to try it. Only the thought that one of those losers might have a weapon Taylor couldn't handle (and that heels likely didn't give her good balance on sand) stopped him.

''Right.'' He clicked the phone closed, stepping closer to the Thunderbird to see if he could hotwire it. Apologies to his girlfriend, but he didn't have the time to argue Sandy into giving him the keys to one of the Cohen's vehicles. Spotting the glint on the front seat, he snatched up her key ring with a sense of pride.

She'd **known**. His girl had known what she was doing, getting into Volchok's ride, and left him what he needed to bring an end to this mess. Not to rescue her (he doubted she needed it), but to finish what the surf Nazi had started. A hand came down on his shoulder as he opened the door to climb into the car.

''Kid, the police…….'' He didn't have time for this. His time limit was the bastard's patience; and he already knew that that was a short fuse. Thankfully, his brain appeared to be feeding off the adrenaline rush, working overtime on a solution.

''If it were Kirsten?'' Ryan saw the point hit home, the hand came away and fell to the side as he got into the driver's seat and slammed the door.

''I'm calling 911 for Kaitlyn; you'll probably have half an hour before……..'' He nodded, accepting the deadline. Starting the vehicle, pulling it into a squealing reverse; he let the cool air from the open window settle his rage a bit.

Half an hour wasn't enough time to get to Volchok and give the guy the beating he deserved.

He needed another option.

--xxx--

Taylor sighed, wishing she could check the time without giving the impression she didn't have faith in her boyfriend. Standing around and watching the moron-surfer brag on what he was going to do to Ryan was starting to lose its appeal. Not that it had very much appeal to **begin** with; but even a trained monkey would've changed its routine by now. She sighed again, louder this time; drawing the attention of the moron-skank who'd joined them. Heather was the only one, besides Volchok, who had the guts (or lacked the brains) to stand anywhere near her.

Looked like those little lessons she'd given moron-grabby-hands and moron-broken-nose in the van were sticking.

''What?'' The other girl snapped at her when she sighed for the third time, glaring with envious disdain at her (sand-filled) strappy red pumps and (low-cut and slantingly ruffled) red party dress. The auburn beauty tossed her curls over one shoulder, giving the group of morons a half-lidded stare of ennui.

''Bored now.'' She** wasn't **really. She was near-frantic with worry about Kaitlyn and hoping that Ryan had come up with a plan that didn't involve him going to jail for manslaughter. Pretending to be apathetic about the whole mess was the only reason she wasn't sobbing hysterically; why she hadn't run screaming down the beach.

''Once that little bitch gets here, you'll see some excitement.'' Moron-surfer swung his arms back and forth, she supposed he was 'loosening up' for the fight. She refrained from pointing out that it didn't matter how 'loose' he was, he was still going to lose. ''Rich boy'll find out how the 'other half' gets it done.'' There was some laughter and muttered agreement from the others and she realized suddenly that they didn't know.

They didn't know where her guy was really from.

Oh, she had to tell them. She had to.

''Ryan's not from Newport.'' They looked disbelieving, so she gave them her most uncaring, blankest expression of conviction. The one that screamed 'I don't care if you believe me or not'. She fought back the amusement, letting a trace of pity enter her voice as she spoke. ''That's where he's living now; but it's not where he grew up.''

''What? He some tough-ass from Bev Hills or something?'' There was snickering, the boys traded high-fives in appreciation of their leader's 'joke'. Her silent waiting for them to finish unnerved moron-grabby; he started glancing between her and moron-surfer, an unhappy look on his face.

''No, from Chino.''

Oh, the looks on their faces. Moron-grabby looked **very** unhappy now, and moron-broken-nose appeared nauseous. She briefly entertained the thought of warning him about the wrath of Julie (sure to fall on him once the events of the night came out) before she remembered that the child-beating creep deserved everything he got. Heather shrank into herself, respect entering the hateful glances she was sending towards Taylor. Volchok was obviously scared for half a second, before he tried to laugh her revelation off.

''Right. From Chino. And I'm secretly a billionaire.'' He snorted, refusing the idea because it so blatantly unsettled him. Going up against a rebellious trust-fund brat was apparently one thing; going up against someone who'd lived most of his life along the razor's edge? Moron-surfer didn't look like he wanted **any** of that, so he denied the truth. ''You're just trying to protect your boy, that's all.''

''Kev, what if…..?''

''Shut up! I said she's lying, okay?''

''Why would I lie?'' He got right up in her face (the smell was horrible) seemingly incensed by her quiet words, her calm tone.

''You must really be afraid I'm gonna hurt him to come up with shit like that.'' Taylor crossed her arms over her chest, denying him the peek downwards. She would've pushed him back, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing his presence irritated her.

''My only concern is how difficult hiding your body will be.'' Her solid, matter-of-fact tone rocked him back a step. She flicked hazel eyes towards the surf, back to him, to the tide rushing in, and back to his suddenly tense form again. Smiling coldly, she made a show of examining her nail polish (passion red, like her dress) and sighed a sing-song comment to display her complete apathy for his presumed demise. ''Bored now.''

''Hey, here he comes.''

--xxx—

''Here comes our boy now'' Volchok stepped away from where he'd been looming over Taylor (stick to the plan, Ry) and grinned at him with the smug satisfaction of someone who was finally getting what he wanted. ''Slow down, bro.''

''Kaitlyn's okay, Sandy's with her.'' He saw relief slump his girl's shoulders briefly, the fiery look she shot one of the boys told him which was responsible for the pre-teen's injury. That is wasn't Volchok was somewhat disappointing. He could've beaten the guy into a coma and (between Sandy and Julie) gotten away clean, were that the case. Plan A it was, then. ''You okay?'' His girlfriend shrugged, stretching her arms out in front of her and tilting her head from side to side before she answered.

''Bored now.'' He recognized the quote, giving her a glare so she'd know how hard she'd just made it for him to keep a straight face. The way she looked in that outfit (pier-filtered moonlight making her glow) was already making this hard for him in other ways.

''We said she could go, but she wanted to stay.'' Ryan spotted what he needed, his angel rolling her eyes (in reaction to Volchok's statement) at the edge of his vision. He picked up the empty bottle, smashing it to splintered purpose and holding its neck with the experienced grip of a bar-room brawler. His gaze was flat, blue ice colder than anyone outside of Chino had ever seen. ''Whoa, now………come on……..let's not get crazy………'' His opponent obviously wasn't getting the point of Plan A, although he appeared to be satisfactorily nervous. Face still and set into hard, uncompromising lines, he switched the broken bottle to the other hand; leaving his right free to grip or punch as needed. ''You don't wanna do that.''

Wrong, he did; he so very much did.

''Oh, you're giving me advice now?'' Years of living with the Cohens had perfected his sarcasm. Years of fighting for his life gave it the sharpened edge it needed to draw blood. Something more, though……. Grabbing up a piece of wood that looked like it had fallen from the rail of the pier over their heads, he tossed it to Volchok; who caught it in dazed reflex. ''Come on!'' The other two boys had backed up, clearly not wanting a piece of what he was handing out. ''Come on!'' They even looked nervous about Taylor (he could see why in one case; that nose hadn't been broken the last time), missing their leader's nervous glancing their way in their efforts to get some distance without going near the auburn beauty. ''Don't look at them, look at me.'' He needed to keep the jerk focused on him, so he could convince the guy of his homicidal intentions.

''Warned you.'' Taylor declared, shifting her feet in seeming discomfort. He recognized the motion as one of her 'stances', though; she was preparing to back him up. A surge of affection (and pride for the guy with the broken nose) went through him, shoved aside in his need to stay focused. How to clue her in to his plan without showing his hole card?

''Stay out of this!'' She blinked at his angry shout (the first time he'd directed ire towards _**her**_) and ducked her head so that none of the other teens could see the water in her eyes. He didn't want **her** fighting, and **he** was going to ………. No, wait a minute. He _**wasn't**_. That was why…….. She bit her lip on the realization, raising her head back up with the same calm expression she'd had during this whole nightmare.

''Come on.'' Moron-surfer sounded like Seth: all whiny and pathetic. Even if he went for the fight (board against bottle), he was still losing major face. She hoped that meant he'd no longer have the clout to interfere with their lives **ever **again.

''You scared?'' Never had she heard that tone from Ryan before; that scornfully spiteful snarl. She'd never seen him act like this, either; superior and utterly sure of himself. It was a dark confidence, though; born entirely of his skill and experience with violent confrontation.

If only she could get him to be confident about everything else he was good at; then he'd be an even more amazing guy than he already was.

''You don't know what you're doing.'' Volchok protested, fingers clenching nervously around his board. She begged to differ with the idiot.

From what she could see, her boyfriend knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

''I've been fighting guys like you for **years**. You want to bash my face in because your life sucks? Fine!'' Moron-surfer blinked. Apparently he'd never considered **why **he wanted to fight the shorter boy (or anyone else), he just went after it like a dog chasing a bone. ''Yeah? Yeah?!" Ryan gave every appearance of getting worked up, being angry. Only the flat pools of chilled blue told her he was still in control of himself. ''But you wanna fight, you're gonna have to kill me.'' What? Oh, hell no. She barely kept from protesting, gritting her teeth with the frustration of not being able to interfere without ruining the whole plan. ''So, what's it gonna be?'' It was going to be a long, **long** talk later about what bluffs were and were** not** appropriate to put forth when facing off against surf Nazi's with three brain cells; _**that's**_ what it was going to be. ''Come on!''

''All right!'' Taylor nearly collapsed with relief when the board thumped into the sand, the boy who'd been such a pain in the tuckhus this past week backing up with his hands held palm-out in a gesture of surrender. ''All right.'' Accepting that he couldn't win the fight, how unexpectedly clever of him. ''Let's go. Guy's crazy……….''

There was muttered assent to that, something about crazy people having 'that strength'. She'd ask Ryan to explain what that was all about later.

When they weren't busy holding each other up.


	11. Smut

**A/N: **Here it is, the chapter you all (or at least Waltzy) have been waiting for.

Picks up a few seconds after the last one ended.

--xxx—

He didn't remember going over to her, or her coming to him. All he knew was that they were suddenly holding each other, clinging to each other with almost-painful tightness. She was trembling in his embrace, her arms a gentle pressure around his shoulders. He could feel her warm breath on his neck, his ear; feel her heart throbbing against his cheek. He closed his eyes, pressing her more firmly to him, turning his head to breathe in the sweet aroma of her hair, her skin; trying to ignore the fact that he'd almost lost her. She's alright, he told himself sternly. She's safe.

Taylor was safe and, therefore; all was right with Ryan's world.

She whimpered softly when he pulled back, wanting to remain secure and warm in his arms for the rest of her life. He stared into her eyes, the blue of his brighter than she'd ever seen them. She couldn't look away, caught by the look (what **was** that look, she didn't recognize it) on his face. He raised a hand to cup her cheek, thumb sliding tenderly over her bottom lip, gaze burning. She had a sudden flashback to that night in the Cohen's kitchen; the night they'd first met, the night they'd first kissed. His lips touched hers and any resemblance to that first, tentative exploration was eliminated by the fire that exploded inside her, throughout her. She gasped at the sweet electricity, her fingers threading into his hair as she slipped her tongue past his teeth.

There were probably better things to be doing, right then, than making out with her boyfriend; but, at that moment, she couldn't think of a single one.

She tasted even better than he remembered, felt more amazing than he thought was possible. His hand went into her hair, cradling the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. Everything else faded away except **her**, except _**Taylor**_. He couldn't tell her how relieved he was, how desperate he'd been; but he could definitely show her. He moved his hand up from her waist, gliding over the fabric of her utterly fantastic dress. She moaned when his fingers slipped inside the cloth, under her bra, settling over the sultry tautness of her left breast.

''Ryan….'' She arched her neck, taking her mouth out of the reach of his lips. Of course he (cheater that he was) instantly transferred his oral affection to her jaw, her ear, her neck. She lost the track of what she'd wanted to say for a minute, head spinning with the erotic thrill of what he was doing to her. Her belly tightened, as did the nipple of the breast under his palm. Oh, right. ''Ryan……'' He wasn't listening, why wasn't he listening? His mouth moved burning along her shoulder, his right hand coming down out of her hair to fumble at the back of her dress. ''Ryan…….**stop**.''

He rested his forehead on her shoulder, trying to get a grip. Fuck, what had he almost done? Removing his hand from her dress, releasing her from his embrace; he couldn't meet her eyes as he stepped away. Way to screw things up completely, Ry, he berated himself. Molest the girl, right. I'm sure she's all impressed with the romance of **that**. He mumbled an apology, or maybe it was something about making their way to the car. He really wasn't tracking very well at the moment. Her hand on his cheek made him flinch, the guilt made him look her in the eye. She deserved so much better……..

''Not here.'' She let her gaze speak for her, making no attempt to either fix her hair or adjust her clothing. If this was finally happening, she wasn't about to stop it; just relocate it. Preferably to his pool house, if she had her druthers. Seeing his brow still furrowed, the guilt still swimming in his eyes; she took one of his hands, pressing it against her cheek. She would've kissed him, but didn't want to risk losing control again until they were somewhere more private. ''I want this to happen, just……..'' she glanced around, wrinkling her nose at the trash and assorted beach clutter ''…….not here.''

''Right.'' Damn, he should've known. Now that he thought about it, he didn't want it here, either. The pool house would be perfect; with its private bath and huge bed and door that **locked**. He gave her a rueful grin, shrugging a bit as she smiled forgiveness at him. Watching her adjust her bra back into place through the fabric, he openly leered, making her giggle. ''Blame the dress.'' She giggled again, turning around in a circle to show the outfit off, brows raising at him because she (mind-reading tease) knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him. Not that he passed up the opportunity to witness what the red (silk? Satin?) did to her already fantastic ass. She stumbled briefly on the sand as she turned, he lunged forward to help her regain her balance. Remembering the distance they had to travel to get to the car, he scooped her up in his arms.

''Ryan!'' She laughed this time, feeling more delicate and feminine than she ever had. He muttered something about there being enough sand in her shoes and not wanting her to sprain an ankle. ''Well, if you're sure.'' He grunted, starting to move across the beach. She put her arms around his neck in a loose grip, ready to drop down and walk if he showed the slightest sign of fatigue. It was hard to resist the urge to blow in his ear, or kiss his neck, or even just rest her head on his broad shoulder. That would be mean, though; so she behaved. Something's in the air tonight, she thought to herself. Whatever it was, it felt good. Good to make this choice, to be with him, to take things to the next level. Better than good, even.

It felt right.

They reached the car, Taylor kicking her legs excitedly when she saw her Thunderbird. He set her gently on her feet in the parking lot, steadying her with hands hovering over her shoulders. Not that he thought she'd fall, he just didn't want to stop touching her. Hazel shown brighter than the moon, pulling him in like a moth to flame. There was an energy between them tonight that was as irresistible as it was exhilarating. She felt it too because, when he paused with his lips inches from hers; she gripped his shirt and tugged him the rest of the way in. He could die from the ecstasy of this, of kissing his girlfriend with this heightened intensity to his senses. Pressing her against the side of her car with his body, feeling her small hands lifting his shirt out of his pants; this was what living really was.

The chirp of his cell phone jolted him out of heaven and back to Earth.

''Hey, Sandy.'' Ryan's face was a mix of annoyance (that they'd had to stop), guilt (for not calling his guardian earlier), and desire. She could understand the last one perfectly well. She wanted to pitch his cell into the ocean for interrupting them, for instance. ''Yeah, she's okay.'' He handed her the key-ring she'd dropped, hoping (at the time) that Kaitlyn could use it as a getaway or that someone (after the blow to the girl's head) would use it as an ambulance or that (as had actually happened) her boyfriend would use it to make the rendezvous with Volchok. ''I'm fine.'' She rolled her eyes, climbing into her vehicle and unlocking the door for him to do the same. Fine, right. In Ryan-speak, that could be anywhere from actually **being** fine to should-be-in-the-hospital. ''Yes, I'm sure.'' They buckled in and he shot her a significant look as she started the engine. ''It's over.'' She wanted to ask how he was so sure they'd seen the last of Volchok but didn't want to spoil the mood by making her boyfriend broody again. Time enough for** that** conversation in the morning, she decided. Hopefully 'the morning after'. The possibility of 'the night before' was making her nervous and excited and a little scared and so eager she seriously thought of violating the traffic laws.

The silence was weird.

He'd gotten used to Taylor's constant talking, her engaging conversation and crazy rambling. It was one of the best things about how they fit: her filling up his silence with her clever eloquence. Ryan was trying not to worry about **why** she was so completely quiet, throwing the kiss by the car up against his doubts as proof that she wasn't mad at him for letting the Volchok thing get so out of hand. Further proof was that she wasn't yelling. If she was mad or upset in any way; she'd **definitely** be letting him have it by now. Then there was the fact that she was pulling into the Cohen's drive. Part of him was relieved that he wasn't going to have to spend yet another night dreaming of her, wanting her there so desperately he'd wake up reaching out for her. There was another part of him, though, the part that was still convinced he didn't deserve her (her, this family, his new future – any of it); that was telling him he couldn't do this. Fortunately, she got out of the car the instant it stopped, leaving him still half-turned in his seat to ask her if she was sure they should. By the time he got loose of the seatbelt and went after her, she was halfway around the main building, heading for the pool house.

Taylor walked with determination (and some annoyance) towards her boyfriend's private room. Reading the quality of his silences wasn't as easy as reading his eyes or tone of voice; but she was pretty much an expert in Mr. Atwood's little brooding spells by now. Assuming he felt guilty was usually the way to go, mixed with whatever issues of insecurity or rage were applicable to the situation. Well, she wasn't having it; not tonight. Tonight, he was going to have to start accepting that he was a great guy and she was lucky to have him. Trying the handle, she was relieved to see that he had acclimated to Newport enough not to have locked his door. It made it easier for her to get inside and, once she was inside; he was going to have a heck of a time getting her back out without a major fight. The way things were going tonight, she didn't think **that** a real possibility; not with the charge to the air; the tingling electricity that sparked between them, that had filled the car and stifled her words in her throat.

Besides, the sand in her shoes (between her painted toes) was driving her nuts.

She walked into his pool house the same way she did everything else; with confidence and poise. His stomach clenched, seeing that fine ass walking into his bedroom as he came around the corner of the house. Briefly, Ryan entertained the thought of leaving her to enjoy the privacy and sacking out in the guest room. Luckily, his feet continued moving him after her; sparing him the screaming lecture he probably would've gotten if he'd tried to be the gentleman (Taylor deserved a gentleman) he wasn't. He walked in and saw her, standing next to his bed, open purse on his nightstand, removing her jewelry (putting it in her bag) as if she did it every night. His heart seized up and he froze, hand on the door-handle, struck by the image.

She'd never looked, could never look; more beautiful than she did right then.

''Ryan?'' She was a little concerned about him: that strange look was on his face again. Taylor went over to where he was standing, put her hand alongside his to pull the door shut. ''Are you okay?'' Maybe he'd been hurt? He had been handling broken glass, after all; and a nasty board (however briefly), he might've gotten a splinter or something. She started to step back, to get a better look and see if there was (she felt faint just thinking of it) any blood.

''Yeah.'' That question wasn't something he could let her read his mind to answer, she was already starting to freak. She was worse than Kirsten, sometimes; fussing over (thankfully, in a vastly **different **manner than his mother) whether he'd eaten recently and whether or not he was getting enough sleep. His heart tightening again, he took her face gently in his hands with a sense of inevitability. ''I'm good.'' Ryan kissed his girlfriend softly, tenderly; taking his time. Dimly, he felt her arms going around his ribs, her body soft and warm against his own. He had everything he'd ever need in his entire life: right here, right now.

She was going to faint, she was seriously going to faint. Oxygen was becoming a serious issue, but she didn't want to stop, not even to breathe. Could she actually be climaxing from just a kiss? Of course, calling this **just **a kiss was like calling the sun a candle. Just as she was starting to have spots behind her eyes, he broke the lip-lock, panting against her cheek, moaning her name against her neck as he dropped his hands from her hair to her bare shoulders. Taylor frowned, feeling the trembling in his fingers; in his whole body, she realized. Was this normal? He was nuzzling behind her ear, smoothing the bare skin of her upper back with his palms, giving a breathless, surprised-sounding chuckle.

''Why the hell am** I** nervous?''

''You've never done this before.''

Ryan pulled reluctantly back from the ecstasy of inhaling her skin and opened his eyes, searching her gaze to see if she was serious. Calm hazel met his bewildered blue, she lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, smiling to herself. She didn't actually think that he………

''Taylor, you said you knew I…….'' He didn't want to be talking (he **certainly** didn't want to be thinking) about those other girls right now. He didn't want to be talking **at all**; but talking things out was one of the rules of dating Taylor Townsend.

''You've had sex.'' The poor boy darn near collapsed in relief that she wasn't denying reality. She smiled wider, bracing herself with her palms against his chest, rising up to whisper in his ear. ''This is different.'' She wanted to say that this was making love, but figured he didn't need the added pressure. Something in him recognized it, otherwise he wouldn't be nervous, would he? Grit under her feet made her huff in irritation, she stepped away from his embrace; wincing as the sand rubbed on the soles of her feet. ''I need to wash my feet before I go nuts.'' She was just about to head for the bathroom when he stopped her, leading her to the bed instead. ''Ryan…..'' Eager as she was, she really didn't want the distraction of her sandy toes to ruin the experience.

''Take off your shoes.'' Leaving her sitting on the bed, he went into the bathroom and soaked a couple of washcloths in warm water. Removing his dress shirt, he hung a towel over his arm and went back out into the main room. Taylor was sitting on his bed, tossing the second of her heels towards Seth's chair. He knelt in front of her, grinning smugly when he saw her eyes light up at the sight of his wife-beater-clad chest. He placed the towel beside her on the mattress and gently took one of her dainty (smudged and filthy) feet into his lap and started wiping it clean with the first of the washcloths.

''You know, the cleansing of feet is significant in several cultures.'' She was proud of her voice, it didn't shake nearly as much as she expected it to. That silly little scene in Pulp Fiction (Ryan's choice for home-movie-night, a few weeks ago) suddenly made a **lot** more sense. It was unexpectedly erotic and surprisingly romantic for him to be washing her feet.

''I know.'' He was smirking at her, looking entirely too composed. He switched to her other foot, pressing a spot through the damp cloth that made her knees tremble. Good thing she was sitting down already. He leaned forward, she gasped in delighted anticipation; wanting to smack him when he only retrieved the towel with a chuckle. Taylor yanked her feet (once they were patted dry) out of his grip, planting a foot to either side of his knees as she stood up.

Taylor reached behind her and unclasped the dress at the back of her neck, hesitating briefly before she let the fabric fall. He swallowed thickly, eyeing the delicate red lace over her breasts with appreciative (it was so hot, for her to wear that) resentment (he wanted to see her naked, damnit!). The purr of a zipper drew his gaze away from her chest to watch the cloth move lower and lower down her body, falling from her hips to drape across his knees. From where he was kneeling, he was face-to-crotch with his girlfriend: the smell was intoxicating. He shook his head free (mostly) of the dizzying fragrance, licking his lips in anticipation. Ryan raised his eyes back up, taking his time to notice **every** perfect inch of her. She stepped free of her garment, putting an automatic hand on his shoulder to stay upright. He groaned at the contact, looking right down the strapless bra to see **everything** he'd been dreaming about for weeks, smelling _**Taylor**_ all around him.

He stood abruptly, kissing her (hard and fierce, this time): catching her off-balance and controlling her fall so she went backwards onto the bed with him on top of her. At the last minute, he braced his forearms to either side of her; taking the weight of his body there and on the knee he slipped between her smooth thighs. Hovering over her, he couldn't help but smile with a surge of emotion that took him a few minutes to identify.

He was happy.

''If you don't want to…..'' The auburn beauty beneath him gave him a dirty look, hazel eyes glinting dangerously. He smiled, stroking a caress up her side from thigh to breast, watching the movement of his own hand with awed fascination. That she was dating him was unbelievable enough; that she was letting him touch her like this, that she was going to let him….. ''I just don't know if I'll be able to stop a third time.'' Confessing it brought back the memory of the moment under the pier, when all he had felt was a wild need to be with her; the kiss by the Thunderbird, when she'd come close to ripping his clothes off.

''We have to.'' Taylor reached up and smoothed the frown from his forehead, covering his lips with her fingers. Her heart was pounding wildly, her belly swirling with heat at the calloused thumb rubbing her nipple through the (suddenly too-tight) lace of her bra. ''There are three responses to an adrenaline rush, you know.'' This would've happened regardless of any excitement with the moron-crew (maybe not tonight, but eventually), she just needed to reassure **him** of that. ''Flight: and I, for one, don't want to run anywhere. Fight: which would entail going a few rounds with your body substitute over there.'' She lifted an eyebrow at him, sliding her hands down his chest to take a grip on his t-shirt; letting him fill in the blank for the third response. His stomach twitched when she pulled the cotton free of his pants, the muscles tight under her fingers.

''Fuck, Taylor.'' He moaned, dipping his head to plant a fervent kiss on her collarbone, body quivering against hers.

''Right.'' She sighed teasingly, arching into his touch as his lips trailed fire across her skin. ''Let's do that one.''

Murmuring agreeably, Ryan moved his hand around to her back, unclasping her bra easily and tossing the lace aside with a growl of obvious irritation. That he appreciated the view was apparent; he froze for a long moment, just staring at her chest. Finally, he raised his azure orbs to her face; expression wondering as he laid a (far-too-tender) hand on her flesh. She pulled at his shirt, hoping he'd take the tugging as a sign to move things along. Disappointedly, he didn't

He stood up, taking the hard warmth of his body away; making her want to scream and cry with frustration.

_**Now**_ what?

Stepping out of his shoes, he tried not to look too desperate or hurried as he kicked them aside. Dragging his feet to rid himself of his socks, he stepped on one of the wet (and now-dirty washcloths); bending over and tossing the terrycloth towards the hamper with a muttered curse that made his girlfriend giggle. Shaking his head at her endearing lunacy, he pulled his shirt off and threw that to the floor, fingers fumbling on his belt. **Finally**, he got his trousers open; hooking his thumbs under his boxers (which felt two sizes too small) to strip completely naked with one smooth motion.

Taylor sat up, gaze locked below his waist. For the first time that night, she looked unsettled. He took a steadying breath, pushing his clothes to join her dress with his foot and forcing himself to just stand there and let her stare at him. The eyes that slowly traveled up his body to meet his were only slightly hesitant, hazel welcome made clear by her shifting around to lie with her head on his pillow. He could read the tension in her fantastic little body, though. All her calm resolve to the contrary, she appeared to be more than slightly nervous.

Her boyfriend laid down in the bed next to her, but made no further move to touch her. She shot him a curious look, turning onto her side. He smiled at her, stroking his hand soothingly up and down her arm from her elbow to her shoulder. Unconsciously, she found herself once more staring at his crotch, at what waited there with its blatant masculinity. Blushing and lifting her gaze to his chest (which was as high as she could manage), she let him twine their fingers together. She expected him to raise their joined hands to his mouth; to sooth her anxiety with a romantic gesture. Instead, he placed her palm against the pulsing heat that was the source of her unease.

''It's okay.'' Ryan could barely manage to speak, the feel of her touching him so intimately sending jolts of animal lust raging throughout his body. He'd never had such a hard time controlling himself around a girl as he was having with Taylor. A few kisses (however heated), the sight of her (admittedly magnificent) breasts, and her hand on him (God, she was _killing_ him) and he was seconds away from losing it completely. When he felt the resistance leave her fingers, he lifted his hand away, caressing her back and staring at her chest to distract himself.

**Feeling** her explore him was torture enough, he didn't need to **see** it.

It was weird, but the more she touched him, the calmer she felt. She indulged her curiosity, stroking his hardened flesh as gently as possible, sending her fingers caressing along its length to feather over the tip. He moaned, hips jerking forward in reaction when she wrapped her hand completely around. Startled, she looked up to see his eyes closed, his face tight with strain; his hand trembled in the small of her back. Letting go, she moved her hand around to** his** back, pulling herself forward so that their bodies were pressed into each other.

Suddenly, she was on her back, his lips crushing hers, prying her mouth open; his hand insistent on her hip; keeping her firmly in place beneath him.

He couldn't take it anymore, he just couldn't **take **it. He had to feel her, taste her; give himself to her completely. Nothing mattered but showing her the pleasure of _**her **_body, joined with _**his.**_ Trailing kisses down her neck, he sucked and nipped at her skin; seeking out the pulse-points (to drive her completely wild) for his most earnest attention. Cupping a breast to his mouth, he exhaled over the skin, teasing her with the ghosting of his thumb around (but never over) her nipple. Sucking the hardened nub swiftly into his mouth (taking her by surprise from the gasping quality of her moans), Ryan distracted himself from the aching need to have her with the preparation of doing so.

Nothing in the world had ever felt this good. She arched her back, moaning a little more deeply as her boyfriend turned his attentions to her other breast. Her hands were roaming over his head and shoulders, occasionally clutching at his hair or tightening her grip into his amazing musculature. Taylor lifted her hips up automatically when she felt his hand sliding into her panties, anxious to be free of the scrap of cloth so she could feel him _**everywhere**_. He ignored the hint, his touch traveling agonizingly slow over her heated flesh until he reached the throbbing, damp center of her.

Pausing to make sure he had at least **some** control left (if he didn't, this was gonna be over **real **fast), he gently eased one finger into his girlfriend. She bucked her hips upward, more emphatically this time; pleading with her body for him to remove her remaining piece of clothing. Smiling against her skin, he moved the finger in deeper, probing for what he knew was there. She screamed, digging her nails into his shoulders and inadvertently restoring most of his control with the sharp sting of pain the action caused. He added another digit, stretching the burning ecstasy spilling nectar over his fingers. The smell was driving him crazy with lust, he had to get more of it.

When Ryan started moving down her body, lips trailing with blatant purpose towards their ultimate goal; she couldn't help but whimper. She'd been doing research on sex since they started dating, spending a lot of 'private-time' in the bathtub thinking about what it might be like. It hadn't even begun to prepare her for this, though; the dizzying sensation of his fingers moving where only her own (and her gynecologist's) had gone before. The feel of his mouth moving lower and lower, the sound of his breathing at _least_ as ragged and heavy as hers. His thumb grazed her clitoris (other fingers plunging in and out to her breathless pleasure) and she arched in sudden, dazed orgasm; hands fisting in his sheets because she was afraid the tension in her fingers was likely to rip his hair out.

Not content with bringing her to the edge once, he pulled Taylor's red lace down off her hips; his lips on her abdomen keeping her writhing in place as he removed the fabric separating him from his goal. Tasting her was all he wanted to do, the aroma a siren song of pleasure. Looking up when the panties finally cleared her ankles, he felt his heart clenching at the wanton sight of her; gloriously naked and waiting for him to claim her. Him, Ryan Atwood, no one else. He changed his mind, he could put off tasting her until later. Right now, if he didn't take the gift that was willingly being offered to him, he was going to go insane. She damn near ripped his arm off, grabbing on when he rolled away to retrieve the condom.

Oh, the condom. Taylor blushed, loosening her grip on her boyfriend so she was no longer hurting him. She'd heard the grunt as she'd latched onto him (not wanting the pleasure to come to a stop), she knew she'd (however inadvertently) hurt him. Thankfully, he didn't seem to be in the least bit upset, or like he was going to stop what he was doing. He didn't **quite** bat her hand away when she reached to help him put the latex on, but his grip on her fingers (before he let go) was at least as tight as hers had been on his arm. He rolled back over to her, smoothing a caress down her body from her collarbone to her hip; asking a question with his eyes. Nodding, she ran her hands all over his chest and sides, cupping her face between her palms to pull him in for a deep and soul-piercing kiss.

Kneeling between her thighs, he paused one last time; ghosting his fingers against and within to see if she was still ready for him. Ryan raised his eyes to lock with hers, easing himself inside her tightness with agonizing (for him, anyway) slowness. Her eyes got wide, her breath came in heaving gasps, but she gave no sign that he was hurting her. Pushing forward, he fought to stay in control; to make this good for her before he let go with his own release. Painted fingernails dug into his upper arms, making it easier for him to keep his entrance leisurely. He didn't **feel** leisurely; he felt strong, powerful, like a wild animal barely kept in check. Once all the way in, he rested his forehead on hers, panting for breath, planning on regaining his senses before the sensation of being inside her overwhelmed him.

A plan she ruined by arcing her neck and sucking his tongue almost down her throat.

He could **never** stop, he wasn't _**allowed**_ to stop. He **had** to keep making her feel this blind ecstasy _**forever**_. **Nothing** in her entire life had prepared her for how mind-blowingly **good** this felt. And the further he'd pushed inside of her, the more of his body she'd taken in this most intimate of contacts; the _**better**_ it had felt. She'd wrapped her legs around him so he couldn't pull back out, so they'd be together for the rest of their lives. In the haze overtaking her brain, it made **perfect** sense. After all, what did she need with anything **else** when she had _**him**_? Mon Dieu, it was so good, it was driving her crazy. Taylor broke the kiss reluctantly, gasping for breath, his lips returning to hers before she could entirely recover. His hips twitched back, then forwards; jolting her with thunderbolts of pleasure. Her legs loosened a little, permitting him some freedom of movement so that he could do it again. He had to do it again, he **had** to. He did, her mouth coming free of his with a gasping arch of her neck; giving voice to a shuddering cry of joy.

The sound of her enjoying herself so thoroughly almost undid him, His next thrust was harder, making her cry out and pull him down for another oxygen-starved kiss. Ryan couldn't hold back any more, moving in and out of the heated silk with tender urgency and an increasingly quicker pace. Every time they parted, trying to gulp in desperately needed air, they ended up with their tongues tangled; the pleasure between them building, sweeping over them like an out-of-control fire. All too soon, an eternity later; she was clenching around him, clutching his shoulders bruisingly hard as her body seized up in a tremendous, screaming orgasm (his name featured prominently among several words he was _**never **_asking Seth to translate) that pulled his own climax from him with the broken gasp of **her** name against her cheek.

The aftermath is almost as good as the sex, Taylor thought; idly stroking his back as he rested atop her. There was a sense of peace, of completion, of **belonging** to their post-coital embrace. He lifted his head to met her happy gaze, returning her smile with a (rare) tenderly sincere one of his own. His hair was mussed, sweaty and wild-looking. He was a primal energy, one of the Greek Gods (with his body, what else could he be?) sent through time and space to save her from her bitch of a mo……. Thinking of Veronica made her remember, and she started to laugh. He separated from her, appearing more confused than offended, frowning only slightly when she (getting a look at his back) curled up in her total inability to stop laughing.

''At least you're not pointing.'' He'd never had **this** reaction before. Of course, he'd never had sex like **that** before, either. Sex where it felt like they were the only two people who had **ever **done this, moving in a unison so complete and perfect that he was kind of sure that, towards the end; they actually _**were**_ reading each other's minds. Ryan barely had the energy to move, but he could already feel himself stirring as he removed the condom; the desire to have her stronger than his common sense or his sense of fatigue.

''I was ……just thinking……..'' Her voice steadied the more she spoke, her laughter settling to mild snickers and giggles. ''We're no longer liars. What we told my mother; it's true now.''

''Good.'' He'd never felt this light and carefree about sex, especially after. Usually it was a mad scramble to adjust clothing and then the avoidance of each other's eyes (followed by guilt) if he ever saw the girl again. He looked Taylor over, making sure she was as okay as she seemed. She had a light sheen of sweat (sexier on her than on him), her arms trembling (as had his, he just hid it better) as she sat up. Her eyes were shining at him, her hair a messy (adorable) halo around her face. He reached out and cupped her cheek, confirming the reality of her presence. She was **really here**, she was _**really**_ naked and glowing with an newly-awakened sexuality. He guessed he should feel guilty about 'despoiling her purity', but all he could feel was peace.

That look was on his face again as he leaned forward and kissed her passionately, the one she suddenly realized was only _strange_ because she'd never seen it unadulterated by any other emotion.

''So…..'' Taylor began kissing her way down his jaw, onto his neck. Her boyfriend (she supposed she could say 'lover' now) put his arms around her, his chest all sweaty and masculine against her breasts. She inhaled the musk of him, of **them**; moving her mouth down onto his shoulder. ''When can we do it again?'' He laughed, as she intended, pushing her back onto the mattress. He shook his head, looking down at her; amused by whatever thought was crossing behind his eyes. ''What?''

''Just wondering where my head was at, that it took two years to find you.''

''Up Marissa Cooper's ass?'' Ryan rolled away from her, laughing harder, his firm shoulders shaking as he struggled with his mirth. That he'd reacted in such a fashion to a joke that referenced his ex (and the pathetic way he'd trailed after the girl) heartened her. That he obviously had no problem being naked around her encouraged her. She leaned up on one hand, intending to continue with her 'deflowering' as many times as was possible in a night. Seeing how his eyes danced with an all-too-rare moment of jocularity, she altered her plan. ''I smell.'' His gaze sharpened on her, traveling over her body with a possessive desire. He rolled onto his side and draped his arm over her waist, burying his nose near her hip.

''You **do**. It's _**great**_.'' He grinned a kiss against her skin, letting her push him away with a huff (on her part) of pretended exasperation. His best pleading expression made her giggle, pushing at his shoulder playfully.

'' Stop it. I'm taking a shower.'' She stood up on his bed, stepping with easy grace onto the upper level. The look she shot him over her shoulder was pointed, he smirked with total satisfaction; thinking of the box of condoms in his medicine cabinet. Hauling himself upright, his girl smiled at him with sultry innocence. ''Joining me, Mister Atwood?''

''Wouldn't want you to slip or anything, Miss Townsend.'' He held the door for her, the chivalrous gesture and formality (given their naked state) causing her to giggle again.

It was slippery and wild and more fun than he thought it'd be. He'd never had shower sex before: Theresa had been too afraid of her mother or brother catching them and all the other randoms in Chino hadn't had a shower to use (or mis-use, in this case). Taylor was serious about 'getting clean', small hands full of body wash (Axe brand, received as a joke from Seth when they'd stuck his brother with the shopping last week) roaming over him tortuously. When she knelt down to wash his legs and feet; her hazel eyes met his with burning significance. Her fingers ran teasingly up the back of his legs, coming around to grip his hardening length as she stood up straight. He moaned as she started to work him, hissing when she squeezed too tightly in her excited experimenting. Finally, muttering that he was certainly clean **there**; he filled his hands with the wash and took his revenge. Her skin was molten silk under his fingers, she kept trying to guide him to where she **wanted** to be touched; causing him to gently scold that she needed to 'get clean' as much as he did. By the time he'd darted out into the chill air to snag the protection, she was trembling with desire.

She was limp as a noodle when they finished with their 'shower', and she could see Ryan's legs trembling with exhaustion. He wrapped her in towels, ignoring the goose pimples and chattering teeth of his bare body's reaction to the night air to care for her. She chided him for not taking care of himself, grabbing one of the towels out of his hand and rubbing him vigorously dry to warm him back up. He turned down the sheets; the fact of her spending the night with him, in his bed, an 'assumed close'. She retrieved her brush and settled her hair, catching him watching her (from where he lay waiting for her to join him) with **that** look on his face again. He lifted the blankets to let her slide in when she was ready, pulling her close against him to claim her lips with a desperate hunger; just as if they hadn't **had** two bouts of very intensely passionate sex already. She returned the kiss fervently, just as caught up in the seemingly inexhaustible desire flaring between them. He pressed her to his firm body, rolling over so she was laying on top of him.

Retrieving the condom (from the nightstand drawer where she'd seen him grab the first one), she felt herself to be truly happy for the first time in her life. Not just because of the amazing (_**God**_, was it amazing; Marissa didn't _and would never, she had_ _her way_ know what she was missing) love-making. No, it was the way it **felt**; deep in her heart. It was comfortable, it was right, it was what was supposed to be happening.

The universe had been created, the monkeys came out of the trees, the path of human history followed its due course – all of creation ordered itself in _**just**_ the way it had in order for Taylor Townsend and Ryan Atwood to be here, now; tangled in his sheets and each other.

She shrieked, giggling, as he rolled her over, impatient with the slow way she just lay there (lithe little body burning silk all over) and kissed him. He chuckled, unable to keep the new emotion from surging up out of him. Trying to get the packaged latex away from her, he found himself laughing, his voice husky and deep with a desire for this girl he couldn't (quite) satisfy. Not to have constant sex with her, but to have her here, in his arms; where she _**belonged**_, where it was right for her to be. Because he knew what he was feeling, and he wanted it to last **long** past tonight.

For the first time in his life, he was truly happy.


	12. Morning After

**A/N: ** I feel like I rushed this; so blame those who pestered me to finish if it sucks.

--xxx—

She breathed in deep, enjoying the quiet of the early morning. Sunday morning: her favorite time of the week. Their family didn't attend services, so they all took the opportunity to sleep in; including the kids. It was a good thing, too; because she occasionally **needed** the extra time to recover from what she and her husband had been up to the night before. Her son had been conceived on a Saturday night, after all. Snuggling further into his spooning embrace, refusing to open her eyes in hedonistic indulgence; she debating waking him for a 'Sunday special'. Her stomach decided the matter for her, growling with hunger instead of clenching with desire.

Breakfast it was, then.

Maybe she could slip out without rousing him (she never had before, but there was always a first time) and they could have breakfast in bed; really start the day off right.

Opening her eyes, she blinked in confusion. The desk he used for his designs was bigger than **that**, and it was down in his office anyway, not their bedroom. Her husband's punching bag had been relegated to the garage during her first pregnancy, so what was it doing hanging…….

Oh.

Memory replaced the last of the dream-images, causing her to smile. Taylor didn't mind in the least that it had only been a dream, the reality was wonderful enough. She shivered with delight at her recollections, causing Ryan to tense his arm; keeping her pressed back against his chest. She held still, hoping she hadn't woken him. He was probably still exhausted from last night, poor boy. She hadn't **meant** to wear him out, but things had gotten away from her. He hadn't seemed to mind, at the time, she thought; grinning to herself with satisfaction.

''Taylor.'' He was having the dream again, the one about waking with his girl in his arms. Leaving his eyes shut so as not to shatter the illusion, he concentrated on the sensation of her feet tangled with his, her body warm along his front, her breasts firm under the sheet and his arm, her hair tickling his nose…….

Tickling his nose?

Blinking, he saw the smooth strands glinting copper in the sunlight filtering through the blinds. His heart seized up at the beautiful sight of her laying right where she belonged. His throat locked on the words he couldn't manage to say (the words she'd deserved to hear **before** he took her to bed) as she turned her head back around to smile up at him. Lover's smile, angel's smile; a smile that made the world a dream come true and all his dreams a reality.

_**Taylor's**_ smile.

''Morning.'' Ryan found himself smiling down at her perky tone, any doubts he had about whether last night had been a good idea erased by her obvious contentment. She stretched in his arms, rolling fully onto her back. Only the thought that she might be cold kept him from tossing the sheets off in order to fully appreciate the view. He did, however; indulge himself by not moving his arm as she turned, letting his hand rest on her solar plexus. ''You can't possibly…….'' He was just leaning down to show her what he could 'possibly', when someone rattled the handle of the pool house door.

''Ryan? You in there?'' Thankfully, the door appeared to be locked; which meant there was a chance in hell he could go back to seducing his girlfriend.

''Go away, Seth.'' He was in no mood to deal with whatever it was the boy wanted to babble at him about; especially when Taylor put her hands _**there**_.

He was lucky his voice had stayed in the same octave.

''Dude, no can do. Dad staggered in for coffee and said to fetch you for a family conference. You've got maybe fifteen minutes before he comes out here himself.'' He grunted in response, being more involved with the action of his girl's fingers.

Stop it, his expression begged her.

Make me, hers teased back.

''Ryan? Everything okay?'' **No**, he wanted to shout; my brother's badgering me when I wanna fuck my girlfriend good morning, life _**sucks**_. ''Why is the door locked?''

''Why do you think?'' Taylor called out, giggling when he glared at her. He looked so……frusterpated. She trailed her hands slowly up from below his waist, over his toned stomach to rest her palms on his chest.

''Uhm……I…..see you two inside, then.'' There was a clattering noise, she'd guess that the other boy had stumbled into one of the pieces of patio furniture during his horrified retreat.

She giggled, the sound becoming a gasp when her boyfriend suddenly dipped his head and started mouthing his way around her chest. Something about the encounter with Seth was bothering her, but she was starting to find it hard to think. Maybe she should've fought off her fatigue last night long enough to grab something to sleep in; being naked made it far too difficult for them to control themselves and anyone could walk in ……….

''Ryan!'' He shook his head, trailing his lips down to join the hand on her hip; his thumb stroking softly back and forth. She grabbed his hair before things could go too far and pulled upwards firmly, asking the question that had occurred to her when his brother left. ''Who locked the door?''

''The door?'' Ryan looked to the right, considering. Last night's activities were burned into his brain, it was hard to think **through** them to how things had started. They'd closed the door, he'd sat her down to wash her feet, and then……… ''Oh, **fuck**.'' His brother hadn't known it was locked and Sandy would be out here teasing the shit out of him if **he'd** been the one to secure the door; which only left ''Kirsten.''

--xxx--

''Hey, beautiful.'' Sandy returned from his coffee-run, setting her mug on the table in front of her. He stole a kiss, she cupped a palm over his ear to hold him in place a few moments longer. ''What's going on?'' Kirsten smoothed a hand over the clothes she'd picked out, smiling bittersweet as she thought of when the jeans at the base of the pile had fit.

''They're for Taylor.'' She explained calmly.

''I thought she wasn't in the guest room?'' Sandy furrowed his brow, then chuckled. ''The pool house?'' She nodded at her husband, watching Seth approach his brother's room with a wary look towards his parent's full-length windows. Not very observant, son, she thought; seeing him miss the fact that one of the curtains was drawn up, giving her a good view of the patio. ''So, I guess you'll be wanting me to give Ryan the usual 'safe sex or no sex' lecture?'' There was a note of seriousness under his joking tone; a recognition of the concerns she'd voiced about their foster son rushing this relationship to make up for the disaster the last one had been.

Of course, that had been before last night's inadvertent eavesdropping.

''No.'' She sighed, sipping her coffee and ignoring his startled glance. ''He's a man, now; we have to respect his decisions.''

''Kirsten.'' He was laughing as he put his arm around her; and not at their son stumbling over a deck chair on his way back to the kitchen, she'd bet. ''If **that's** your criteria for _manhood_, I'm afraid you're some years too late in his case.'' She smacked her man on the shoulder, grabbing the clothes as she stood.

''That's not what I meant.'' Fingering the fabric to avoid his amused expression, she told him about going to the pool house, after the party; to see if her quieter son needed to talk. Actually, it was really more to reassure herself that everything was all right. Her hand had just been about to turn the handle when she'd heard the giggling ………and the laughter. ''It was a _**man's**_ laughter, Sandy.'' There was understanding in her husband's eyes, the acknowledgement of what she'd realized, standing outside that (thankfully blinds-drawn) glass door. ''He's grown up so fast.'' Kirsten whispered regretfully; wishing they'd been able to give him more of a childhood.

''I know.'' Sandy was thinking of the moment he'd reached this same epiphany, when the blonde bo …….when the young man had spoken so bluntly of his own mistakes, laying the Volchok situation out for the police, last weekend. Despite some provocation by the (moronically insensitive, he'd already had words with their superiors) detectives, Ryan had kept his cool; giving accurate (if embarrassing) descriptions and background for the threat to their family. He'd never been so proud as when the other had re-iterated his intent **not **to fight.

He just prayed that intent hadn't been tossed aside, last night.

''I'll just take these out for her to change into.'' Pink tinted his wife's cheeks, and he smirked at the thought of what sounds had probably _followed_ the laughter; most likely overheard when she'd returned to the pool house (with the key) to lock the door from the outside. He caught her arm as she headed for the door to the patio.

''Let's go through the kitchen.'' She hesitated at the suggestion that they take the opportunity to embarrass the boys and he patted her shoulder encouragingly. ''Come on. It's a rite of passage by now.'' He grinned teasingly at her confusion, winking. ''You're not really Ryan's girlfriend until you've been caught in the act by his mother.''

--xxx--

''Mom!'' Seth stared horrified at the woman approaching the kitchen counter, shooting a panicked glance towards the still-quiet pool house. Just because he'd spent the past five minutes trying to get the image of his brother and _**Taylor Townsend**_ out of his head didn't mean that he wanted his parents to know what was probably going on out there. Sweet as that revenge might be, it **wouldn't** be worth the bruises he'd get (from Ryan shoving him into lockers and doorjambs all week long) until he was forgiven. ''Ah, ….. he's still sleeping! Something about the surf Nazi being tougher than he thought……'' Maybe making his mom flip out over the other boy's possible injuries wasn't the best plan. ''I'm sure he's fine, though!'' She wasn't stopping, so he hopped off the stool to head her off. ''Just tired and, you know; I wouldn't put it past him to be sleeping in the nude or something Chino like that……''

''I hope not.'' His mother was carrying clothes, he realized. _**Girl's**_ clothes. Her face was tinged with pink as she stepped around him, determined in her course. ''He and Taylor skipped dinner, they shouldn't skip breakfast as well.'' Relief flooded through him, sending him slumping back onto the stool he'd been spooning his cereal at.

''Oh, good, you already know.''

''Yes, son.'' His father patted him on the shoulder. He eyed the man warily, put on alert by the snide tone. ''That would by why she's carrying the change of clothes.'' He rolled his eyes, not appreciating the dig at his observation skills.

''In this house, one never knows.'' The two male Cohens watched as Kirsten knocked, handing the change of clothes through the barely-open door to a robe-clad Taylor; who actually dipped a bit of a curtsey. After a few moments conversation, the woman turned and came back to the main house; his brother's girlfriend waving perkily as she saw them watching. ''You okay, Mom? You seem kind of ……..calm.'' Truthfully, he'd expected his mother to hit the roof when she found out Ryan had had company last night. She was kind of straight-laced, and the fourth member to their family group…… well …….wasn't. ''Saving it for when they come in?'' If something was going to happen, he wanted to be there. No one told him anything, and his only chance to get his money back from Summer (he should've know better than to bet with her) was to be at ground-zero for the parental morning-after grilling. ''He **is** okay, isn't he?'' Her silence was starting to make him nervous. Volchok was a super-villain; he needed more info on the take-down than the 'it's over', relayed through his father, before he could stop worrying.

''Well, in between apologies about staying over and offers to cook us breakfast…'' She accepted a schmeared bagel from Sandy with a smile, appearing distracted. He hoped that was because of Ryan's little liaison, not the status of his brother's well-being. ''….Taylor said that he 'didn't need so much as a band aid'.'' This smile was wider, and the slight tension in the air over the Cohen's evaporated. Seth sighed in relief, chasing the last bites of cereal with his spoon. The guy was okay, which meant it was open season for the mocking and inappropriate comments. ''Does he have……'' Red tinted his mother's face, and he smirked down at his bowl. At least he always won, betting with himself. He knew it wouldn't be more than five minutes before the woman started stressing about the other boy practicing 'safe sex'. ''Sandy, do you know if he has any…….'' She fluttered her hands and he snorted, taking mercy on The Kirsten and drawing his parent's (unjustifiably harsh – **he** hadn't had **his** girlfriend over last night, after all) glares.

''Mom, this is _**Ryan and Taylor**_.'' He picked up his now-empty bowl, setting it into the sink. His timing was good, the couple would just be coming in the door as he delivered the next line. Pretending not to see them, he topped off his coffee. ''They practically re-define 'responsible'. If he doesn't have a case in the closet, she's got two or three boxes in her purse.''

--xxx—

''More or less.'' Figures Taylor wouldn't be phased by his brother's comment. He decided to go along with her 'doesn't bother me' attitude and ignored Sandy's snickering and Seth's pointed glances. ''Good morning, Cohens!'' Ryan took down two mugs; handing one to his girl and filling the other from the coffee pot.

''Morning, Taylor. Ryan.'' Kirsten's voice wasn't irritated at all, and she didn't look even remotely disappointed in him. That was nice, to have her stamp of (if not approval) acceptance on the furtherance of this relationship. She'd always been hesitant to support his getting physical with his previous girlfriends (probably for some mom-reason or, in Lindsay's case; sister-reason) so having her behaving normally made it a **great** morning.

''Morning.'' He ignored the raised eyebrows and startled looks as he opened the fridge and added cream to the cup of coffee in his hand; surprised expressions fading as he traded the now caramel-colored liquid for the fresh-poured mug of black Taylor handed him. ''Okay if I make omelet's?'' Food had been the convincing argument for the captain of the debate team's point that they couldn't hole up in his pool house forever. Only the knowledge that one of his family (or Summer, which would be worse) would eventually pry them out of his 'cabana mansion' (no matter how much food he stock-piled) made him give in and accompany her to the main house.

''Sure, kid.'' Sandy was done waiting for an update, he had his 'let's talk' face on. Sure enough, his foster father's next words bore out his assumption. ''So long as we get a better review of last night's events than 'it's over'.'' He nodded, assembling the ingredients for the meal and trying to think of how to explain his plan without worrying his family with the details. Shattered glass bottles and urging someone to try and kill you weren't things he thought they would understand.

''How's Kaitlyn?'' Taylor asked suddenly, coming over to help him prepare the meal. He yielded the stove to her and concentrated on chopping ingredients, mixing the eggs and milk. His auburn angel continued to speak, readying the pan and finding the plates. ''If I'd known they were going to knock her on the head, I would've insisted on joining them in the van instead of trading myself for her release. She is okay, isn't she?'' He handed her the egg mixture and she poured it, sizzling, into the pan.

''She's fine.'' Sandy soothed. ''She had a CAT scan done; more to calm her mother down than anything else, and Neil drove them both home. Didn't even need stitches, just a bandage and some pain pills.'' He frowned, wondering where Marissa had been (and hoping the girls' mother would keep those pills locked up) during all this. His boss had mentioned something about making the night a 'family affair' which had dimmed his enthusiasm for the event, what with the possibility of his ex making a scene. ''Julie'll probably be calling, later on; wanting to know about Volchok and the whole mess.'' Ryan shrugged, rinsing the knife off before putting it in the dishwasher. He added the empty cereal bowl he found in the sink (most likely Seth's) before answering the unspoken question.

''He thinks I'm crazy.'' His foster father and girlfriend were the only ones who looked understanding. The lawyer because he dealt with the mindset and the girl because she'd been there, at the confrontation, and so had a better grasp on how things stood then the other two. Well, that; and Taylor excelled at figuring people out and the moron in question was hardly difficult to understand. ''Lunatics 'got that strength', so that gave him a 'reason' for losing, before, and an excuse to back off **this **time without looking like a …''He amended his choice of words, seeing the sharp look his foster mother shot him.''….sissy.'' Handing the rest of the ingredients (mushrooms, diced ham, cheese) to the girl at the stove, he indicated where the spices where with a nod of his head when she raised her eyebrows at him.

''I doubt that'll be enough for Julie.'' Kirsten observed, fiddling with her second bagel. ''She'll want a guarantee stronger than this Volchok's reputation. She might even want a little revenge for the bump on Kaitlyn's head.'' The woman was obviously trying not to **sound** supportive of such an option, but the mother in her was coming through loud and clear.

Someone had laid a hand on a child; that someone must now pay.

Shit, why couldn't he have stolen a car when he was ten or something? Then he could've grown up in this house, with this family.

Of course, the trade-off in most likely ending up still with Marissa just wasn't worth it.

No, he decided, watching his girl cook them breakfast as he sipped his coffee; things turned out pretty good this way.

''Well, you can tell her that I broke his nose.'' Taylor put in, grinning when he stared at her in a mix of possessive amusement. So **that's** why the other guys had been so twitchy; they were afraid of **his **_**girlfriend**_. ''The guy who hit Kaitlyn? I punched him.'' She made a motion with her hand, coming close to knocking him in the face because she was paying more attention to the food than how close he was standing. He kissed the knuckles, stepping back with a leer when she gave him a startled look at the contact

''Somehow, I doubt the ol' Dragon Lady's gonna let it go with just a broken nose.'' Seth said, tapping his fingers on the counter. Again, he was possessed with the urge to slip something sedative into his brother's food; just to get a break from the constant fidgeting. ''You know how it is. They send one of ours to the hospital, we send one of theirs to prison……''

''It's 'the morgue', Seth; and that's Julie's look-out.'' Ryan accepted half the sizable omelet from his girl and took a bite. Good stuff, he wondered what else he could convince her to cook for him. He swallowed, watching his guardians' faces relax into tolerant pride as he continued. ''If she wants to hunt down the guy, or send someone after them: **fine**. It just won't be me.'' Things at the office'll just be tense for a while, he thought to himself. Nothing that can't be handled with a detailed description of how Volchok and his boys ran like little bitches from me _and my girlfriend_. Remembering how nervous the two boys had been, he nudged said girlfriend and grinned. ''I think that guy's nose may be permanently crooked.'' He'd waited until she wasn't eating or drinking to say it; so the expected giggling didn't cause her to choke.

''I dislocated the other guy's thumb.'' Off Kirsten's shocked expression, she said ''Oh, he got a little grabby, so I taught him some manners.'' He frowned down at her, suddenly not so amused. Taylor patted his arm reassuringly. He couldn't stay mad, not when she smiled at him like that. Besides, it sounded like she'd handled things fairly well. ''I only put it back when he promised to behave. Oddly enough, he decided to ride up front after that.'' There was assorted snickering at her words, he squeezed her shoulders in a quick, one-armed hug to congratulate her on the lessening of tension in the room.

''No wonder they think you're crazy, man. You're dating the O.C.'s Sydney Bristow.'' Seth quipped, holding up his hands mock-defensively as Taylor glared at him. ''I'm just saying, lucky Summer wasn't there. They might never have stopped running.'' Snickers became chuckles and giggles, becoming actual laughter with Kirsten's:

''I don't have a problem with that outcome.''


	13. Marissa

**A/N: ** This probably would've fit in with the previous chapter, but I didn't want to spoil the fun mood.

Besides, Marissa is due the bad luck from chapter 13, don't you think?

--xxx--

The van in the driveway was a mystery, the name on its side familiar; but she was too tired to care. Marissa blocker her mother's car in with her convertible and made her way up the front walk, digging absently in her purse for her key. It had been a long night, waiting at the loft for her latest boy-toy to return from his mission. He'd been drunk when he finally got in, and had a lot to say about the fact she hadn't warned him that 'the Ryan guy' was 'psycho' **or **that he was from Chino. She didn't see what **that** had to do with anything; it sounded, to her, like he was just making excuses for his failure. Even so, she'd still given him a little mutual fun for his efforts. Having someone like that available to her was always useful; especially know that she knew his limitations.

And Kevin Volchok certainly had them.

He at **least** should've been able to teach that bitch Taylor a lesson, she fumed. Why he hadn't had his friends rough the slut up (or worse) she didn't know. Possibly, he was just lacking in imagination. Or maybe he hadn't been able to talk his friends **into** it, ugly as **that** whore was. So she hadn't been able to arrange the destruction of the girl who'd ruined her life or had _**him**_ delivered, broken and bleeding, to collapse at her feet. Satisfying as it would've been to serve her enemies their just desserts in such a manner, there were other ways to see to it they got what was coming to them.

''Hello, Marissa.'' Her mother was standing in the foyer with three strange men. The thought that they'd been over for the night was immediately discarded, predictable as it would've been. They were a little more clean-cut than the woman's usual type; the older guy actually looked respectable.

''Mom.'' She slammed the door behind her, now that there was no longer any need to be quiet. Marissa smirked at the adults, folding her arms over her chest. ''Are these the new bodyguards?'' She eyed the youngest-looking one specutively. Could be fun, if she approached it right. Then, of course; she'd have leverage to hold over him when she wanted to get away from Julie's new, slightly paranoid, security measures.

''Not exactly.'' Julie shook her head, sighing. She was putting on a pretty good act. Someone who didn't know her would think she was upset or something. ''Look, Marissa; I've tried. I'm not above admitting that I've failed. Letting you live with your father, letting you move out; being the 'cool' mom and then trying to lay down the law: nothing seems to work.''

''Work? Family isn't something you **work** at, _**mother**_. Either you deserve to be loved or ……..'' She sneered, eyeing the woman with derision, making the fact that she considered the other undeserving of her love apparent. If those guys were here to keep her from making a scene, then that was an obvious miscalculation on the elder Cooper's part. There wasn't **any** opportunity she'd pass up at letting the bitch have it, no matter how many 'persons of influence' were around. She didn't care who these people were, or how important her mother thought they were. Embarrassing her in front of business associates would be a bonus, actually. ''You just don't get how things are supposed to work.''

''Like picking up your sister at the mall?'' Julie's arms were crossed now, and what she'd taken for humiliation was revealed to be a barely controlled anger. ''You didn't even call, young lady; you just left her there!'' Oh, so little sister had gone crying to mommy about being ignored. Some things never changed, it seemed.

''So the little brat had to take a cab home, so what?'' She just wanted to sleep. Playing around with Kevin had been fun, but he'd been far more energetic than she'd been prepared for. She needed a shower, too; before what she'd been up to became obvious enough for her mother to pick up on.

''That creep Volchok grabbed her, that's what! If you'd been there, like you said you were going to ……..'' She's blaming **me**? Marissa was angry, dropping her arms to fists at her sides. That is just so unbelievably **unfair**, _**I**_ didn't do anything wrong!

''If you're going to blame **anyone**, you might try your precious _**Ryan**_. He's the one who introduced Kaitlyn to that jerk, remember?'' If it hadn't been for _**him**_, everything would be so much better; **why **couldn't anyone understand that? Him** and** that bitch of his. All it would take for things to go back to normal, for her life to be **perfect** again; would be for the two of **them** to go away, preferably in humiliating defeat.

''Actually, it's the other way around; but that's beside the point.'' Julie motioned, and the two taller guys, who kind of looked like bouncers; came towards her. She suddenly realized what the van (no, the ambulance) was for and backed up, swallowing nervously. She'd thought the name Mount Pleasant was familiar and she'd just placed it. It was where Oliver's parents had threatened to send him, after the incident at his old school. She glanced around frantically. There had to be a way out of this. "I can put up with the drinking and the sleeping around and even the physical abuse. It wouldn't be the first time, and I certainly haven't been all that great as a role model.'' **That** was true, but she couldn't get her throat to unlock enough to say so. The respectable-looking one was drawing something out of his pocket. ''Endangering your sister is the last straw. I won't have you in my house, not after that.'' Another gesture, and the men closed in on her. She was keeping it together, until she saw the needle in Mr. Respectable's hand.

''You bitch!'' She lunged, darting to the side when one of the big guys made to grab her. There was some jockeying for position, but there was really nowhere for her to go. She had to get away, find her Dad. If anyone could fix this, he would. He'd do anything for her, he was the only person who really cared about her. ''You crazy bitch! You can't do this to me! I'm your daughter! Mom!'' They grabbed her, put her on the ground. This wasn't right, it wasn't **fair**! She wasn't to blame, it was _**him**_! Struggling against the hands holding her down, she felt a sharp prick. Everything started to get fuzzy, to fade away. ''Mom! _**Mommy**_!'' It was a last ditch effort, but even pleading in a little-girl voice didn't help her. She couldn't hear what was being said, barely felt her body being lifted up and carried out to the van/ambulance.

They were **really** doing it, really taking her away.

Well, this wouldn't work; they'd see. She'd come back, and they'd be sorry.

They'd **all** be sorry, but especially _**him**_, especially _**her**_.

Now it just wasn't about justice for the way things had gone downhill after _**he**_ arrived.

Now, it was about revenge.

Marissa planned on serving it very cold indeed.


End file.
